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OLD SCHOOL DAYS 



A MEMOIR OF BOYHOOD, FROM EARLIEST 

YOUTH TO MANHOOD, INCLUDING 

THE ERA OF THE REBELLION 



A COMPLETE STORY OF BOY LIFE, AIR-CASTLES, DAY-DREAMS 
AND ROMANCE. VACATIONS, SPORTS AND RECREATIONS, 
SUPERSTITIONS, TERRORS AND GRIEFS, ANNIVER- 
SARIES, ERAS AND HOLIDAYS, LYRICS OF 
THE REBELLION AND ITS BOYS 
ARTS AND CRAFTS OF BOYHOOD, PRACTICAL JOKES AND 
DANGEROUS PRANKS, TRAGEDIES IN THE LIFE OF 
BOYHOOD, THE OLD HOME AND' ITS MEMORIES, 
A COMPREHENSIVE RETROSPECTION. 
APPENDIX: OLD FIELD SCHOOLS 



BY 

ANDREW JAMES MILLER 



THE 



Bbbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 

1 14 

FIFTH AVENUE 

Condon NEW YORK montrcaJ 



84429 



Uibrapy of Congr«sa 

Two Ox'iES Received 
DEC 5 1900 

Copyr^M entry 

Ct 3o /IS 



Mo 



SECOND COPY 

Oe<iV«rad to 

OKO£R DIVISION 

DEC 22 1900 







m 

the 
United States 

and 
Great Britain. 



All Rights Reserved. 



TO THE 

FRIENDS, PLAYMATES AND SCHOOLMATES, 

who shared, with me, all the glories and miseries, perils 

and tergiversations of the "salad days" of youth, 

this volume is respectfully dedicated by 

The Author, 




ANDREW JAMES MILLER. 



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. 

Mr. Andrew James Miller, the author of this book, was born 
of Scotch-Irish parents at LaGrange Ga., Sept. Jf, 1855. His 
paternal ancestors were from Ballycullcti, near Belfast, Ire- 
land, loherc the estate is still in the j)ossession of the eldest 
male descendent, having thus passed in succession, from sire 
to son, for the past 425 years. His maternal ancestors were 
from Annbank-by-Tarbolton, near Ayr, Scotland, where several 
immediate relatives still reside. Mr. Miller passed the usual 
course of studies at the academy of his native town; then to 
preparatory school and finally tvas sent to the State Uni- 
versity at Athens, Ga. Through inability to continue his 
studies to the point of graduation, he tvas reluctantly com- 
pelled to withdraw, and, at the age of nineteen, entered busi- 
ness life with the Mercantile Agency of R. G. Dun & Co.,\ 
Atlanta, Ga. He rose rapidly in his new profession and, 
after a year, was sent to Quincy, III., and was subse- 
quently made travelling auditor for the Memphis branch. 
In 1819, he loas made manager at Evansville, Ind., and in 
1S83, ivas promoted to the large branch at Minneapolis, 
Minn., controlling an immense territory of the Northwest. 
In the meantime, he was married to Miss Ella Stephens, the 
granddaughter of Gen. Robt. M. Evans, after whom the 
city of Evansville, Ind., was named. The rigors of the) 
severe winters of the Northwest impaired his health and 
he returned to Evansville, and entered journalism as editor 
of the "Evening Tribune." During all of this time, he had, 
at leisure moments, pursued his studies, which had been 
especially directed to the ancient civilisations of America, 
and the comparatively unexplored regions of Central and 
South America. He conceived the idea of organizing a 
Scientific Exploring expedition to America's Dark Conti- 
nent and, in 1888, he interested several of the leading 



Biographical Note. 



newspapers in the United States, in the scheme. Among 
these were the New York "Sun," Louisville "Courier- Journal," 
Chicago "News" and St. Louis "Republic." In March, 18S8, the 
expedition, equipped tvith every necessary appliance, sailed 
from New Orleans and landed at Puerto Cortez. From 
thence, all of the five republics of Central America were 
visited, including the extensive ruins of Chiquimula, Quirigua 
and Cerra Crusi del Quiche, in Guatemala; Copan in Honduras 
and the numerous ruins of the lake and surrounding Nieara- 
guan country. A new and hitherto unknown ruined city was 
discovered in Olancho, and another in the wild and unex- 
plored region of Northern Nicaragua. The details of these 
explorations were published by the newspaper syndicate, to- 
gether with numerous facts as to the strange people of those 
sections, and created ividespread interest throughout the coun- 
try. A second expedition loas formed by Mr. Miller, when he 
visited Ecuador, Peru and Chili, Argentine, Brazil and Vene- 
zuela, as loell as the islands of Curacao, Trinidad, Martinique 
and Cuba. Most of the details of this journey are yet to be 
incorporated in a comprehensive work upon Latin America, 
which is noio being carefully compiled by the author. The 
facts and general details of "Old School Days" are the result 
of the author's careful collection and preservation of data, 
from the earliest period of boy life, and the extended com- 
parisons of his facts and those of different divisions of the 
country. To still further enrich these memoirs, he devoted 
six weeks of the past summer in revisiting the scenes of his^ 
early boyhood and revising his notes among those who shared 
with him the "ups and doions" of Old School Days. At pres- 
ent, the author is the Manager of the Soiithcryi Bell Telephone 
and Telegraph Co., Montgomery, Ala. 

THE PUBLISHERS. 



IV 



Preface* 



The thoughts and aims of clays long past are the 
forces that mould our present lives, and it is, there- 
fore, impossible to forget them. The ghosts of old 
sorrows and of aspirations unfulfilled cannot be wholly 
laid. The road we have travelled cannot be obliter- 
ated by time. We cannot help seeing much of the 
track still, and if a part of it lay between green pas- 
tures and still waters ; through woods, gladdened by 
the song of birds, and over hills bright with sunshine 
and fragrant with violets, another, and, perhaps, a 
longer part of the journey, was through deserts and 
quagmires, and across jagged rocks, over which we 
stumbled with bleeding feet. 

The peculiarly difficult task of truthfully delineat- 
ing the capricious, variable and almost unfathomable 
nature of the average schoolboy, has created a bar- 
rier to this intricate and interesting study, which has 
made it a field of research dangerous to even the most 
skillful specialist. This may be said to arise from the 
inevitable results of evolution in school life, studies, 
methods and discipline : the variations in national life, 
and the differences in eras of progressive thought. 

xi 



Preface. 

And it will be forcibly illustrated by comparing the 
life and times, so charmingly depicted in "Tom 
Brown's School Days at Rugby," and the most recent 
work upon boy life, brought out by Rudyard Kipling, 
in "Stalky & Co." There is the widest divergence 
in the types of boyhood in the two periods, requir- 
ing a strenuous effort of mind to comprehend the fact 
that both authors are depicting the boyhood of the 
same nation. The reasons are plain, when we reflect 
upon the fact that the status and surroundings of 
the school days of Tom Brown have long passed 
away, while the modern Eton boy is the product of 
another and different era. 

It has seemed equally difficult for many historians of 
boyhood to maintain a strict fidelity to fact, by over- 
doing the effort to create a natural schoolboy. Such 
is the impression of Dean Farrar's "Eric," which is 
an admirable literary compilation, while his attempt 
to depict a real schoolboy as a namby-pamby senti- 
mentalist, is more of a caricature and burlesque than 
a fact. Possibly one of the nearest approaches ever 
made to a real boy, in fiction, is the creation of "Tom 
Sawyer," by Mark Twain. The escapades of this 
precocious youth, with his admixture of good and bad 
traits, and the absence of any preternatural intellect 
and cleverness, make him a wholesome study, as one 
of the actual boys of real flesh and blood quality. 

Yet the task of compiling a true record of old 
school days and boy life is, by no means, an easy 
one. It has many serious impediments, beyond all 

xii 



Preface. 

errors of memory, involuntary prejudices, and unin- 
tentional embellishments of particular epochs, in the 
eventful life of childhood. 

There are some things, which, it is generally un- 
derstood should be respectfully treated, however un- 
worthy of respect they may have been. Foremost 
among these is one's old school, especially the one 
which encompasses the first years of school life. We 
may have been bullied and starved there ; we may 
have experienced there some of the most poignant 
griefs and sufferings of early life, but there seems 
to be something, which proclaims it bad form to con- 
fess it. To say a word against the place where we 
have perhaps passed the most miserable years of our 
existence, is held to be something of a breach of con- 
fidence. Such a chasm of years has intervened that 
the indictments, which could now be brought, are long 
barred by "the statute of limitations." Who would 
now reveal its shortcomings is considered a croaker 
and misanthrope, whose charges would not be ac- 
cepted with full credulity. It is only permitted for 
aged persons, in their occasional confidences and 
biographies, to narrate their most secret educational 
experiences ; these old, unhappy, far-off things which 
seem to belong to another world, except to those who 
remember them. 

The author is in no wise blind to his faults and im- 
perfections. No literary merit is claimed for this 
work, as he is painfully aware of its many deficiencies, 
both in diction and purity, while it can be justly 
xiii 



Preface. 

charged, in many places, to have ruthlessly violated 
literary taste, in the use of slang phrases and expres- 
sions. 

The only merit claimed is for an honest and ener- 
getic compilation of facts, comprehending a multi- 
tude of episodes, anecdotes and everyday happenings 
of the period of boyhood under consideration. 

Furthermore, no attempt is made to conceal the 
fact that a large number of these details, and, at times, 
the language used, has been borrowed from others. 
Not only a multitude of authorities, upon school life, 
and other transient works of ante-bellum days, but 
a number of miscellaneous clippings, from sources 
unknown to the author, have materially contributed 
to this compilation. Indeed, the scources are so nu- 
merous, from which he has gathered the details, that 
no attempt will be made to enumerate them. Facts 
and incidents have been culled from every quarter, 
and the most suitable things that could enhance 
these memoirs and add to their general interest, have 
been freely appropriated. This would have been 
largely defeated, if page after page had been thickly 
studded with quotations. Some quotations and allu- 
sions have been made, where they could best serve the 
force and interest of the theme, but a ragged regi- 
ment of such authorities, which check the flow of 
discourse with interruption, have been studiously 
avoided. 

As a means of awakening the genial after-dinner 
humor of most men past middle age, no subject per- 

xiv 



Preface. 

haps equals the memory of early school days. Let 
the topic be started, by an anecdote of some long- 
dead pedagogue, it will be as if the spigot had been 
drawn from a butt of old vintage, and the stream of 
recollection will flow forth, rich and sparkling, with 
the mellowed light of years. Strange is the charm 
of a word ! For a lifetime a man has been painfully 
toiling up the Alps of circumstance — it may be that 
he has gained the object of his desire — the glittering 
ice crystal on the peak, which long ago dazzled his 
upward-looking eyes ; and now, "amid the walnuts and 
wine," some one says "I remember" — and lo ! the 
years are forgotten ; the grey-beard is back in the 
sunny valley of his boyhood ; wandering the field 
paths with chubby companions, long since dust, and 
filling his heart once more with the sweet scent of 
clover fields and hayricks. Again, he is romping 
over the highways and through the meadows, resuming 
acquaintance with all the lore of the fields and hedges, 
drinking deep at those nature-fountains whence all 
the literatures and poetries of the world have sprung. 
Again he hears the music of the night-bird's song, or 
the rustle of a dress in the dear old rose garden, and 
timid hands, lingering in each other's clasp, as low, 
sweet words are whispered in the softening twilight, 
while high above hangs bright Hesperus like a lamp 
from Heaven. 

But, aside from the sentimental retrospection of old 
school days, we are frequently treated to dissertations 
by those men of mature years, who would disparage 
XV 



Preface. 

the old educational systems and sublimate the new. 
They will say how comparatively easy the road to 
learning is made in the latter days, and how much 
fewer boyish tears water the road than in their time. 
This, in the main, is true. Probably the boys are 
better "housed" and have better food than was for- 
merly the case ; punishments are not nearly so severe ; 
the cruelties inflicted by bullies — though they still 
occur — are no longer winked at by the authorities, 
while athletics form almost as great a part of the 
education of youth as their books. Boys of the pres- 
ent speak of the school time, as a rule, with pleas- 
ure ; and though there are reasons why their 
word, upon such matters, is not to be trusted, it is 
certain that when the holidays are over they exhibit 
less reluctance in returning to their studies. On the 
other hand, life, at the period of adolescence, has be- 
come less enjoyable because more serious. It is now 
necessary to face the future at a much earlier age than 
formerly, and the struggle for existence begins before 
manhood is reached. At the time of life which was 
formerly free from care, when school was over and 
the work of the world still at a distance, competition 
now begins. The back is suited to the burden in 
time, but the shoulders of youth should not be made 
to stoop under it. 

. I might go deeper into the argument of this ques- 
tion, but it is wholly outside of the purpose of this 
volume to engage in any controversy with the merits 
or demerits of old-time educational systems. The 

xvi 



Preface. 

sole intent and purpose of these memoirs is to give a 
true and authentic account of old school days, with 
all the arts and crafts of boyhood, comprehending the 
period from the time of mastering the alphabet until 
books are thrown aside to enter upon the sterner 
battle of life. A faithful portrayal of this youthful 
period cannot fail to always awaken interest, even 
with the innumerable shortcomings of any one who 
may undertake such a task. Callous indeed must be 
the heart which has preserved no cherished imprint 
of that glorious period, before genuine sorrow and 
care ever came into existence. 

It is true I have heard wiseacres complain that they 
have had to learn experience ; and, I suppose that 
just as Minerva sprang, a goddess nobly armed, 
from the brain of Jupiter, so they would fain have 
come into the world with the thews and muscles of 
their minds and bodies fully grown. Happily, God 
knows better, and blest us with youth. Why, to lose 
the freshness, buoyancy, simplicity, trustfulness, irre- 
pressible ardor, hopefulness and unrestrained enjoy- 
ment of youth, would be to lose almost everything 
that sweetens the cup of life. Indeed, one must feel 
grieved when he sees children without their child- 
hood — little men and little women who were not per- 
mitted to know the bliss that belongs to their morn- 
ing hours. With what pangs of regret will they say 
to themselves by and by, "Alas, I never was young." 
'Tis a sin against their future to deprive them of a 
past. To them, the bright air-castles and glorious 

xvii 



Preface. 

day-dreams of childhood are unknown. They know 
nothing of that region in which the boyish dreamer 
roams at will. The golden trees, tottering with their 
jewelled fruitage, in Aladdin's cave ; pirate vessels, 
flying their terrible black flag and death's head ; 
knights in full armor, careening around the lists ; 
Jack, the Giant Killer, dealing tremendous blows 
against his colossal adversary ; fairies, in mazy 
dances, whirling before the rosebud thrones of Oberon 
and Titania ; Don Quixote, tilting at the windmill ; 
Robin Hood and his merry men, in Lincoln Green, 
hunting in Sherwood forest ; Robinson Crusoe star- 
ing at the footprint on his island's sandy shore — all 
these mingled together, along with shadowy forests, 
palaces and grottoes, in the happy hunting-grounds of 
a boy's dreams and reminiscences. 

As he grows up a change takes place in the phan- 
tasmagoria ; new lights and shades pass athwart the 
mirror ; new combinations are evolved from memory 
and imagination. Perhaps the soft, sweet light of 
love folds over the exquisite scene. Perhaps some im- 
pulse of ambition colors the thought and shapes the 
vision. It matters not, for though the happy hunting- 
ground — Tom Tiddler's Land — whatsoever aspect it 
assumes, will still supply that refuge from the labori- 
ous and irksome activities of life, in which our spirits 
stand in need, and is never so bright, so true, so real, 
as in the imaginative, credulous days of youth. 

The closing chapters of this book, under the head 
of "Old Field Schools," are taken from a little work 

xviii 



Preface. 

of the late Col. Richard Malcolm Johnston, whose 
memoirs were issued under the auspices of the Na- 
tional Bureau of Education, during the past year. 
The excerpts incorporated herein are by his personal 
permission, and will be found especially interesting, 
by way of comparison of the boyhood of sixty or 
seventy years ago, with that of a much later period. 
His pen pictures of early educational life in Georgia 
are unexcelled in their faithful portrayal of the classes 
and conditions of the long ago, in the rural districts 
of the State. The details include graphic descriptions 
of the ancient pedagogues and their many migra- 
tions ; the old log school houses, with their quaint 
furnishings ; the old-time schoolroom, with its sturdy 
discipline ; the habits, manners, customs, dress and 
diversions of the period, as well as the multifold 
sports and recreations which characterized that re- 
mote period of our social and national life. 

In conclusion, these memoirs are submitted es- 
pecially to those who can appreciate their spirit, en- 
joy the memories they revive, and overlook the im- 
perfections and shortcomings of the compilation. 

Andrew James Miller, 
Montgomery, Ala,, 

January, 1900. 



XIX 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



EARLIEST DAYS OF CHILD LIFE. p^^g 

Babyhood — Kindergartens — Precocity of Chil- 
dren — Rational Teaching — Reasoning Facul- 
ties, etc. — Correction and Corporal Punish- 
ment — Mr. Bonnycastle's Views, etc. — 
Children's Literature — Games and Rhymes. . 21 

CHAPTER H. 

THE FATHER TO THE MAN. 

Period from Ten to Fifteen Years — The Angel of 
the House — Time's Noiseless Feet — Import- 
ant Epochs — Entertaining a Boy — The Anti- 
Everythingarians — Youthful Patriots and 
Politicians — Catapults — Songs of the War — 
'Ben Bolt" 34 

CHAPTER HI. 

PRACTICAL JOKES AND INGENIOUS PRANKS. 

The Pioneer Joker — Torturing Animals and 
Birds — Indifference to Their Suffering — 
"Cissy Boys" — The Boy's Hatred of Sneaks 
and Tattlers — Tragedies of Youth and 
Atonement — The Triple Alliance — The Rod 
— Physical Pain 45 



Contents. 

CHAPTER IV. 

SUPERSTITIONS, TERRORS AND GRIEFS. p^^.^ 

Fairies, Elves, Pixies and Nymphs — Ghosts, 
Witches and Ogres — Ha'nts, Spectres and 
Negro Sorcerers — Satan — Santa Claus — The 
Rabbit-Foot and Buckeye — Dream Books — 
Signs of Bad Luck — Sunday-School and 
Preaching — Dentists and Doctors — Negro 
Superstition 54 

CHAPTER V. 

AIR-CASTLES, DAY-DREAMS AND ROMANCE. 

Rhapsodies of Dreamland — Idealism, Youth and 
Love — Hero-Worship and Adoration of 
Prowess and Strength — Pirate Kings — Dime 
Novels — "Kit Carson" — Optimism — Train- 
ing of the Emotions — "Robinson Crusoe" — 
Picnics — Romance and Reality — Dreams Dis- 
pelled 75 

CHAPTER VI. 

VACATIONS, SPORTS AND RECREATIONS. 

The Old Swimming Hole — Picnics and Busy 
Idleness — Berrying, Nutting, Trysting, 
Hunting and Fishing — Birds, Snakes, Toads 
and Chameleons — Corn - Shucking — Log- 
Rolling — Camp-Meetings and Ouiltings — 
Gypsies — Diaries — Albums 84 

xviii 



Contents. 

CHAPTER VII. 

ANNIVERSARIES, ERAS, AND HOLIDAYS, ETC. p^^^g 

Birthdays — New Year's — St. Valentine's — Ground 
Hog Day — St. Patrick's— All-Fool's Day — 
Memorial Day — May-Day — Easter — Fourth 
of July — Thanksgiving and ?Ialloween — 
Exhibitions and Charades — Christmas 102 

CHAPTER VIII. 

OTHER CONCOMITANTS OF BOYHOOD. 

Perseverance Fallacy — Learning to Smoke — 
"Salad Days" — Heredity and Pride of Ances- 
try — Slang — Dancing — Falling in Love — 
Singular Vanity — The Evils of Bashfulness, 
etc. — Phrenology — Fetiches — Gossip and 
Scandal — Criticism 114 

CHAPTER IX. 

LITERATURE OF BOYHOOD. 

Directing the Child Mind — Fascination for Sea- 
Rovers — "Lives of the Sea Kings" — "Don 
Quixote" — "Valentine Vox" — Selection and 
Taste — Sentimental Books, etc 137 

CHAPTER X. 

THE OLD HOME AND ITS MEMORIES. 

Ghosts of the Past — Mothers, Then and Now — 
"Black Mammy" — Spring Cleaning — Doctors 

xix 



Contents. 

PAGE 

and Medicine — Spinsters — Home Cooking 
and Dainties — Saturday — Flies, etc. — Oracles 
— Fashion — Gardens — Anecdotes 147 

CHAPTER XL 

A COMPREHENSIVE RETROSPECTION. 

Survey of Career of Old Schoolmates — Successes 
and Failures — Geniuses and Dullards — Stifled 
Genius — Law of Heredity — Circumstance 
and Compensations — Family Skeletons — 
Early Love and Disappointments — Woman's 
Influence — Voodooism — Old Society — Con- 
clusion 162 

CHAPTER XH. 

OLD FIELD SCHOOLS OF GEORGIA. 

Admixture of Classes — Early Educational Condi- 
tions — Schoolmasters — Schoolhouses — In the 
Schoolroom — Memorizing — Discipline — 
Games — Boys' Games — Dress — Exhibitions 
— Holidays — Turn-Outs — The Passing — 
Boys' Field Sports — Traps — Hunting with 
Hounds and Gun — Raccoon — Hunting the 
Opossum — Plantation F'ourth of July 201 

Index 239 



XX 



Old Scbool Daps. 

CHAPTER I. 

€arlic$t Daps of CDild £ife» 

In Wordsworth's famous "Ode on Intimations of 
Immortality," he says, in substance, that our birth is 
but a sleep and a forgetting, that we are less and 
less alive to the glory and dream of external nature, 
as infancy recedes. The poet did not mean that this 
vision was realized from the nurse's arms, but in 
childhood, which we distinguish from infancy — that 
period of which Ruskin says, "There never was a child 
of any promise but awaked to the sense of beauty 
with the first gleam of reason." Childhood is some- 
thing which lies within our recollection. What there 
may have been in our minds before that time, 
we know nothing of ; but as the period of childhood 
recedes, it is true that we are less and less able to 
perceive that visionary dream of external nature. 
Wordsworth himself protested that he was not incul- 
cating a belief, when he said that "heaven is what lies 
about us in infancy," or, as another has expressed 

21 



Old School Days. 

it: "True happiness is only given to children and 
angels." No matter what it may be or whence it may 
derive, there is, in childhood, some perception of 
beauty and divinity, in the outlook of the world, which 
would make most of us poets if it lasted, and does 
make a poet where it lingers and can find a voice. 
They never yet had voice, these glorious dreams and 
visions, cast upon the childish mind, from external 
nature. They come and go before speech is em- 
ployed in description or analysis, and are probably un- 
attainable to either. Richard Jeffries recalls how, as 
a small boy, he used to go out on the hills and lie 
under the trees, and how he was overcome by "an 
emotion of the soul beyond all definition." In one 
of his poems he tried his utmost to give some account 
of these emotions as they entered into the story of his 
boyish heart. He would recapture 

"Those first affections, 
Those shadowy recollections, 
Which, he they zvJiat they may, 
'Are yet the fountain light of all our day." 

Filled with a sense of what they were to him he 
could not give proper words to what he remembers 
of the fading splendors. He struggled vainly to re- 
cover the irrecoverable and to express the inexpressible. 

Until a child reaches the age of five years its his- 
tory is largely confined to the nursery. The study 
of its infantile discontent and content, misery and 
gladness, up to that period, belongs almost exclusively 

22 



Earliest Days of Child Life. 

to the kindergarten and home circle, which should not 
be invaded by the casual biographer of child life. 
It is nevertheless true that many children develop 
most precocious traits long before reaching five 
years, but these are the exceptions with which we are 
not dealing. It is, no doubt, also true that many doting 
fathers and mothers have discovered wonders in their 
little ones, even before they could articulate. No one 
can deny how interesting and fascinating, for in- 
stance, is the tiny child of two years when words are 
being prettily put together, when its pronouns and 
verbs constitute effective sentences, full of weighty 
import to the speaker; when little actions and big de- 
terminations are so charming and full of artless 
beauty. But this beauty lies largely in the fact that 
the child, up to this age, has been trained and made 
obedient to the gentle, certain will of a tender mother. 
It is, in fact, almost too late, after two years, to 
begin to educate and to train the will and temper of 
a child, as it knows, by this age, with whom it has 
to deal, and acts accordingly. Just as a beautiful child 
of two years is one of the most charming objects 
in all God's creation, if it has been well trained, also 
an ill-trained child is oftentimes one of the most 
unpleasant. To their parents even these children are 
not ugly, for too frequently they reflect themselves ; 
but to all others, the ill-tempered, obstinate little one 
is a sad sight. What is generally termed a "sweet" 
child is indeed one of the sweetest things in life. 
There is a witchery in the tiny lips and tender, soft 

23 



Old School Days. 

round arms, and in the sparkling, laughing eyes and 
ruddy, rounded cheeks. Surely, "'tis not good that 
children should know any wickedness." But those 
little eyes see quickly, and those little ears hear all 
we think they heed not. We thus teach them wicked- 
ness and show them temper, and then wonder there 
should be so many unruly children. How quickly 
children learn who is just, firm and exact with them, 
and how they pour out their love upon those who act 
thus, rather than upon the over-indulgent and ir- 
rational weak ones, who pet and caress and then are 
compelled to punish. 

From two to five years the temper and afifections 
develop quicker than the reasoning powers ; but con- 
stant firmness will subdue and regulate the most pas- 
sionate child without resort to corporal punish- 
ment. It is at this age that a child's training for 
after life most seriously begins; not in book-learning, 
but in little actions of utility ; little household matters 
and offices that teach a child that it can be of use 
in the world. Proudly will a little one of four or five 
talk of "my work" if it be given some trivial task 
that its tender years can manage — some little help 
to mother or nurse or servants, done well and care- 
fully. 

\ But it is from the age of five that the seriousness 
or'life begins with a child. Lessons (don't call 
them tasks) have to be learned and work performed. 
Now this very seriousness can be made and should 
be made the joyousness of an occupied life ; each 
characteristic of a child should be developed and not 

24 



Earliest Days of Child Life. 

be crushed. Well has Goethe put it when he sees 
in "self-will" future firmness and resolution ; and 
yet how many parents and teachers try to crush out 
self-will as an evil thing, instead of directing it into 
self-reliance, firmness and resolution. Temper, too, 
is crushed, whereas, properly guided, it may mean 
immense power of purpose ; unguided, it does mean 
awful misery and untold griefs. Lessons, to most 
children, are a pleasure ; it is the teaching and the 
school that are irksome and sometimes hateful. All 
children are proud of knowledge and will not mind 
the trouble, if they but see the end and aim of their 
troubles. 

The author can dimly recall this early period of 
childhood and, in this instance, as with many other 
epochs of child life, to be treated in this work, he 
will give the impressions produced upon himself as 
not unlike those of any child of a similar age. The 
idea of mastering the alphabet and marching into 
the orthographic beginning of Webster's Elementary 
Spelling Book, was a fond desire, and those mysteri- 
ous hieroglyphics furnished a strange fascination to 
the juvenile mind, until they were finally learned. 
But we can recall the hurry — even impatience — which 
was manifested by the teacher to push us beyond this 
primary stage. This impatience was somewhat terri- 
fying to our young minds and almost at the outset in- 
culcated an aversion to the thralldom of the school- 
room and led to many outbursts of tears. And while 
these brief spasms of grief were keen and poignant, 

25 



Old School Days. 

they were easily hushed by gentle words and friendly 
advances. 

Still the aversion to the schoolroom was not over- 
come during the long period which carried us clear 
over "baker" and through "daffodil." It was long after 
we had begun to read "She fed the old hen" and "The 
boy had a drum" that a fortuitous circumstance 
granted us an imexpected vacation — by the measles 
breaking out in school. This equivocal calamity was 
a most welcome visitor, and it is easy to recall the 
universal joy it occasioned. Those who caught the 
measles were not to be pitied (for it was not danger- 
ous like smallpox, and was better than lessons), and 
those who didn't were taken away for fear of in- 
fection. In subsequent years we learned, too, what 
an inestimable privilege it was to have the mumps, 
as it furnished an immediate holiday. I knew a boy 
to whom this happy fortune happened twice, and once 
more with the whooping-cough, but it exhausted his 
luck and eventually he became an art critic. A short 
time since a providential interposition of this kind hap- 
pened to a school in Troy, N. Y., taking the shape of 
a plague of fleas. There were "millions of them" 
we are told, in every department, and the hours of 
the night were passed, as in seaside lodging houses : 

"Three in itching, three in scratching, 
Two in hunting, none in catching." 

The day boys took them home in their clothes, sul- 
26 



Earliest Days of Child Life. 

phnr was burnt, carbolic acid was sprinkled, but 
nothing came of it but smells. As a certain writer 
observed, they seemed only to "rouse the fleas' am- 
bition." The school was broken up, and the joyous 
children went home. Why should these boys of the 
present be thus favored? The poor boy of the long 
ago never got emancipated by insects. He might 
have been sent home occasionally with a "flea in his 
ear," but that was not emancipation — it was disgrace. 
How early a little child's thinking and reasoning 
powers are made use of by itself was aptly illustrated 
to me the day following the death of the old emperor 
of Germany. A small tot of six years asked: "And 
now he's gone to Heaven, isn't he, mamma ? And will 
he see baby up there? And will he talk German or 
English? And will he know baby?" And then, sud- 
denly, after some words of explanation, "And will 
baby understand him?" Such thinking and reasoning 
powers can be developed delicately and gently, even 
in children thus young; but in most of our schools 
they are immediately crushed by the child's being set 
to learn a lesson from some not-to-be-remembered- 
primer. At six and seven such lessons are set for it ; 
and seeing no use, no outcome, to its own mind from 
its work, the child soon hates learning with such re- 
straints thrown about it. With rational teaching of 
homely subjects ; pleasant history, illustrated by 
striking tales ; interesting geography, with pictures, or 
better still, with photographs of the country and 
especial reference to the country near home; with 

27 



Old School Days. 

such teaching, showing the child the pleasantness of 
knowledge, a boy of nine may, without any real or 
unpleasant labor, be equal to the lad of thirteen, who 
has been stuffed with grammar and parrot-said les- 
sons ; and his mind will be developed so that he will 
understand what he is doing. But such teaching re- 
quires more individual teaching than can be given in 
large schools, as well as careful assistance and gentle 
aid from parents. Goethe has said, "Did the children 
grow up, as in their childhood they gave promise, 
we should have more geniuses," and he explains why 
this occurs ; but one great reason is, that individuality 
is crushed out of children, both in home life and 
school life, and an effort is made to press all into the 
same mould, to form them after the same pattern, 
that they may pass the same examination. 

There were many marked differences in the schools 
of town and country thirty or forty years ago, just 
as there are to-day. School life in town, notwith- 
standing its more sophisticated surroundings, has also 
its memories ; for in what circumstance will not the 
boyish mind create a charmed world of its own? 
Apart from the actual events of classroom and play- 
ground, the streets and shop windows and things in 
them to be desired, all furnish objects of absorbing 
interest ; and a half-amused envy in later years attends 
the memory of the fearful joy with which, after much 
contriving of ways and means, and much final screw- 
ing-up of courage to face the shopman, the long- 
Coveted pack of fire-crackers or the more wonderful 

28 



Earliest Days of Child Life. 

and expensive percussion pistol, was acquired and 

smuggled_Jioni£. _.. 

But sc hool l i fe in th e city has a certain precocity,^ 
which somewhat detracts trom thF~p6etry of remem- 
brance; an aroma is lacking which forms the subtlest 
charm of the associations of rustic childhood. What 
has the city child to compare to the memory of those 
hot summerafternoons when, escaped from the irksome 
thrall of desk and birch rod, in the clear creek pool 
in some secluded spot, the urchins of the neighborhood 
learned to swim? Such a scene is generally among 
our earliest memories, as it remains in a man's mind 
— a possession — a joy forever. Far off, in some city 
den, gas lit and begrimed, his eyes may grow dim 
poring over ledgers that are not his own and his 
heart grow weary and sick with hope deferred ; but, 
at a word, a suggestion, it will all come back ; he will 
be standing again on that grassy margin, the joyous 
voices of his youthful comrades will be ringing in 
his ears, while the sunshine once more beats warmly 
on his head and at his feet sparkle, over their sandy 
bottom, the pellucid waters of the woodland pool. It 
is not for nothing that rustic children, as they start 
for school, hear the low of the cows and witness the 
early gamboling of the sheep and goats ; and that 
day after day, as they tread the long stretches of 
moorland or hedges, they see the quail whirr off to 
the hills, and the fish dart away from the sunny shal- 
lows ; and it is not for nothing that they spend long 
truant afternoons in the ferny lanes and woodlands, 

29 



Old School Days. 

in the season of bird-nesting and berrying. These 
make the fragrant memories of after years. Again 
and again, in after life, to the man jaded with anxiety 
and care, the old associations came back laden with 
pleasant regrets — a breath from the clover fields of 
youth. 

At the period of youth now under consideration the 
boy has not reached the capacity for the use of slang, 
the mischief wrought with the catapult, nor the prac- 
tical jokes nor devilment that will encompass his exist- 
ence at a later age. He may have indulged slightly 
in marbles, tops, ball and kite, but ideas of fruit 
piracy, "laying out," fishing, hunting, trysting, etc., 
have not yet taken possession of his youthful mind. 
Still, he has arrived at the years of accountability for 
his conduct, and some of his delinquencies and dis- 
obedience have demanded the switch. More than this, 
he has received punishment that was unjust and for 
offences he did not commit, simply because circum- 
stances were convincing and the teacher had too many 
other vexations to deal with to give the matter full 
consideration. But the boy doesn't forget it, and the 
injustice rankles in his young heart and plants there 
the first seeds of a feeling of revenge. Through all 
of his subsequent career at school, up to manhood 
and to middle age, he never forgets that circum- 
stance, which made him an unwilling vicarious sacri- 
fice, and the wrong is never forgiven. 

Since those old times of thirty or forty years ago 
the subject of flagellation has become quite a topic. 

30 



Earliest Days of Child Life. 

The question has assumed about the shape as to 
whether 'tis better that the boy should suffer this 
"outrageous punishment," when all other remedies 
fail, and be flogged into shape, or whether we would 
shrink from the risk of "brutalizing" him in his tender 
youth and let him grow up a fire-brand. When one 
remembers the demeanor and discipline which boys 
used to one another, it seems hard to imagine that a 
few strokes with a switch or a cane can injure the 
moral susceptibilities of such a pickle ; and, indeed, 
to hear the arguments of the sentimentalists upon this 
subject makes one wonder if they have ever been 
boys at all. Even if it was settled that the boy, or 
some portion of him, is not too sacred a thing to be 
chastised, the persistent "birch-reformers" have fol- 
lowed with questions of "how and where." Whipping 
on the hands had been found effectual, though the 
cane had many advocates. The great educator of 
youth, Mr. Bonnycastle, (in "Midshipman Easy"), 
was a great advocate of the cane. "Observe," says 
he, "you flog upon a part mostly quiescent, but you 
cane upon all parts, from the head to the feet. When 
the first sting of the birch is over, there is a dull sensa- 
tion, whereas the effect of the cane is felt upon all 
the parts, which are required for muscular action." 
To do the old philosopher justice, he only proposes 
thus to treat obstinate and disobedient boys. The old 
pedagogue then goes on to explain that the two strong- 
est impulses in our nature are fear and love. In 
theory, acting upon the latter is very beautiful, but 

31 



Old School Days. 

in practice, it sometimes fails to answer, because our 
self-love is stronger than our love for others. And 
when a friend suggested that we have those who 
would introduce a system of schooling without cor- 
rection, and who maintain that caning is degrading, 
even to bad boys, he retorted, "there are still a great 
many fools in the world." 

But while we of America have been agitating this 
question, our English cousins, not to be outstripped, 
have brought some rich and unique results to bear 
upon it. From an advertisement in a certain fashion- 
able paper in London it would seem that a long stride 
had been made, whereby the comforts of home are 
to be combined with the discipline of the school. The 
advertisement was as follows : 

To Parents : — Unruly boys and girls, of 
any age, visited and punished, at their 
own houses, by a thorough disciplina- 
rian, accustomed to administer corporal 
punishment. Terms : — Five shillings 
for two visits. 

This is certainly being "visited" for our transgres- 
sions, and yet one would have hoped, in the case of 
a thorough disciplinarian — one who understood his 
business — that one visit would have been enough. 
Still, the same idea might have been farther extended 
than five shillings, and for a guinea, no doubt, one 
could get a ticket "for a course" as at the swimming 

32 



Earliest Days of Child Life. 

baths. It IS curious that the immense convenience 
to the young culprits in "being waited upon in their 
own homes," is not made more of a drawing card. 
The professor, no doubt, supphes his own instruments, 
though the statement is omitted. Let us hope, for 
the sake of nervous persons in the neighborhood, 
that it includes a gag. His calling is certainly a 
novelty, and though we have known nearly every 
kind of tutor to be employed in home education, this 
one is certainly out of the ordinary. The gentleman 
who taught the young people to dance (in joy, not 
misery) is the nearest approach to him. 

Before the close of the period of child life, here 
comprehended, from five to ten years, the youngster 
will have become an adept in many of the arts and 
crafts of boyhood, and have fully imbibed the many 
superstitious characteristics of that period. As he does 
not reach perfection, in all that constitutes a full- 
fledged boy, however, until after ten years, we will 
incorporate into his next era (ten to fifteen) many 
of the facts, characteristics and manners that could 
properly have had their origin in his earlier era. 



33 



Old School Days. 



CHAPTER II. 

CDC latDcr to m IHan. 

When a boy stands on the threshold of his tenth 
birthday the years behind him seem Hke long ages, 
and he surveys the past much as an octogenarian might 
do. To him time has dragged along so slowly that 
he would, if he could, hasten its pace to place him 
in the estate of manhood — the goal, which so soon 
engages the absorbing thought of youth. To lad and 
lass this tenth birthday has a deep and impressive 
meaning, as it practically marks the half of the period 
which is carrying them forward to manhood and 
womanhood. It is an anniversary unclouded by that 
shadow which creeps over it in later life — the dread 
of growing old. There is no sorrowing for that other 
year gone, which is bringing the end closer and closer ; 
on the contrary, we cannot believe in an end, or if 
we do, it cannot affect us ; we cannot realize it and 
never think of it. The peep we get of the prospect 
of life, lying before us, looks simply interminable, 
inexhaustible — a path of roses that must, like the 
brook, go on forever. With a vista like this opening 
to our views there is little wonder that the birthdays 
of the young, with all they include, are conspicuous 
and paramount among anniversaries. Ranking only 

34 



The Father to the Man. 

second to birthdays in favor, comes Christmas, and 
there are a thousand good reasons for this being a 
notable anniversary during our days of adolescence. 
Though we may still have a passing fancy for Santa 
Claus, it is pre-eminently holiday time, feasting time, 
pantomime time, and a time for "high jinks" generally. 
And this holiday season brings to mind an adver- 
tisement which appeared in the London Church 
Times, several years ago, with reference to the 
"Angel-of-the-House" — the boy. It read as follows : 

Parent in adverse circumstances will be 
grateful to lady or gentleman who would 
kindly entertain boy in holidays without 
payment. Gentlemanly boy, excellent 
conduct. 

A parent must be in adverse circumstances, indeed, 
to part with this delightful companion. As a general 
rule, however, those who have to entertain a youth, no 
matter how gentlemanly, for six weeks or so, would 
be willing enough to depute that pleasure to others. 
The word "entertain" has a wide meaning with the 
male juvenile; some may like music, poetry and 
fine arts, but the majority prefer toy pistols or any- 
thing that makes a noise. If our boys, like the poor, 
were always with us, th.ty would soon be orphans, 
as no parental constitution could stand it ; the success 
of our school system consists, in reality, not so much 
in its teaching and discipline, but in its taking them 

35 



Old School Days. 

off our hands for three-quarters of the year. If our 
advertising parent succeeded in providing for his 
progeny during the holidays he must have considered 
his adverse circumstances at an end and his good luck 
to have permanently set in. His best chance of an 
offer must have been from some invalid bachelor or 
spinster, to whom the doctors had recommended 
"change," but we fear that most of them would con- 
clude with Pizarro : "We want no change and least 
of all such change as you can give us." 

When you entertain a boy you must be prepared, 
in every particular, to take the place of his doting 
parent, as he will draw no fine distinctions, but as- 
sume that, as he is the joy of the household he has 
every right to your indulgence. Among the para- 
mount prerequisites he must have plenty to eat. He 
is not so choice about his provender, but he wants 
an unlimited amount of it. It is quantity, not quality, 
that is the most serious concern to a boy when it 
comes to eating. He is not terrified by the edicts of 
the anti-everythingarians, as to lurking microbes, 
germs and bacteria, that may infest all we eat and 
drink. Indigestion and dyspepsia are mere empty 
words to him, as he stores away fruit and pies, pickle 
and sauce, jelly and cornbread, cheese, radishes and 
molasses, washed down with copious draughts of 
buttermilk. Indeed, our boy, like nature, abhors a 
vacuum, and he doesn't care whether the food is 
nitrogenous, starchy or saccharine. He thinks that by 
taking something of everything he meets physiolog- 

36 



The Father to the Man. 

ical requirements in the fats, oils and minerals, hav- 
ing no concern about hygenic laws. What a blessing 
is the small boy's ignorance of science, which is 
persistently demonstrating, beyond the shadow of a 
doubt, that all of us are breathing, eating and drink- 
ing the germs of disease. They can't terrify him 
with all their theories about trichina, tuberculosis and 
pluro-pneumonia hiding around with deadly intent, in 
all that he holds most dear. He is a daring preserver 
of the species, who, at the risk of life, would demon- 
strate that we can still eat and drink just about what 
we please, and not be forced to call on the under- 
taker any earlier than did our forefathers. 

Our boy has now arrived at an age too, if allowed 
full sway, when he can do a vast amount toward his 
own entertainment. In fact, he is beginning to have 
secrets of the most momentous character, and in the 
matter of his amusements he is ambitious to do things 
for himself, instead of having them done by others. 
This is a marked characteristic of childhood. They 
would gladly live in a paradise of their own creation, 
and this is evidenced by their play-houses, mud-pies 
and improvised toys and tools. He would make a 
foot ball from the bladder of an animal, which, blown 
tight and fastened, is not a bad imitation. Even in 
the matter of bullets for his pistol and cannon, he pre- 
fers to cast them himself, which occupation he finds 
delightful. Any boy of spirit prefers to make his own 
boats and kites, while he would never think of buy- 
ing a catapult, or, as the old-time boys called them, 

37 



Old School Days. 

"nigger-killers." With this catapult the small boy 
feels that he can march into the forest and kill any 
bird or animal that is encountered. He will spend 
whole days shooting at sparrows and tomtits, without 
result, and return to the task as faithfully on the mor- 
row as though he had been blest with wonderful good 
luck. There are some strong and serious reasons 
why the general public dislikes these catapults in the 
hands of a juvenile ; and when an embargo was placed 
upon them at home, as well as by the townspeople, 
we used to sneak away to the meadows and woods, 
indulge ourselves in the pleasure and then hide them 
away until the next day. Sometimes we would 
choose sides and have battles, limiting our ammu- 
nition to very small pebbles, and calling the respective 
sides Rebels and Yankees, or Democrats and Re- 
publicans. 

The small boy soon becomes a politician, as un- 
flinching and uncompromising in his imaginary con- 
victions, as ever the worthy paterfamilias dared to be. 
He has imbibed at home all that he has ever heard 
father say as to the shortcomings and demerits of the 
opposition, and he goes forth a most rabid partisan 
among his playmates, espousing of course the side 
which has virtually come to him by heredity. En- 
vitonment can create no change in his politics, no 
matter where he is placed, and he furnishes the best 
practical answer to all the abstruse theories of Dar- 
wm and Lamarck. And the boy is a patriot as well 
as a politician, as none can excel him in the warmth 

38 



The Father to the Man. 

of his fervor, with George Washington, Grant and 
Lee as his standards. It crops out in the boy's selec- 
tions for declamation, where brave deeds and loyalty 
to country are made prominent. Foremost among his 
pieferences are "Moratius at the Bridge," "Marco 
Bozzaris" and "Bingen on the Rhine." 

And when the Civil war broke out the southern 
boy was first to learn to rehearse the lyrics of loyalty 
and passion, which many known and unknown authors 
contributed to that period. "The Bivouac of the 
Dead," "Give Back the Sword," "Ashes of Glory," 
"Maryland, my Maryland," "The Bonny Blue Flag," 
and scores of other pieces engaged his most patriotic 
concern. He was also stirred by the martial airs 
and battle hymns that lent such inspiration and en- 
thusiasm to our soldiers. The inspiring strains of 
"Dixie" filled his youthful heart with passionate pat- 
riotism, as it did the old soldier, who was going forth 
to battle. This expressive, inspiring and beautiful 
national air belongs to the nation, because, as Presi- 
dent Lincoln said, "it was captured with the other 
effects of the Confederacy." It was common, in those 
old war-times, to hear every boy whistling or singing 
some one of the many patriotic airs, as well as other 
ballads of the period, such as "Rally Around the 
Flag, Boys," "The Girl I Left Behind Me," "John 
Brown's Body," "Pat Malloy," and "Josephus Orange- 
blossom," besides many transposed lyrics of an ear- 
lier period. There was patriotic music all over the 
land, and no class of the community aided more in 

39 



Old School Days. 

keeping these old songs alive than the small boy. 
Many old songs of that time, too, have not yet been 
discarded while many of them will continue to live 
as long as pathetic, homely and touching lyrics can 
reach the heart. It may not have been a master 
mind that wrote "Ben Bolt," but there is something 
about this air and the sentiment of the song that leads 
one to think that it cannot wholly die or be forgotten. 
The same is true of "Home, Sweet Home," which is 
a universal lyric, touching a responsive chord in every 
heart, and therefore possessing elements of immor- 
tality. "Down on the Suwanee River" may not en- 
thuse the disciples of the Wagnerian schools, but no 
musician, with a real love for his art and a proper con- 
ception for the true musical feeling, can fail to see 
the transcendent beauties of this southern song. 

There are other simple melodies of forty years ago 
which maintain considerable vitality. Among these 
might be mentioned "Twenty Years Ago," "Evange- 
line," "Old Folks at Home," "Nellie Gray," "Old 
Plantation Home," "Massa's in the Cold, Cold 
Ground," and the "Annie" group ; namely, "Annie 
Laurie," "Annie of the Dale" and "Gentle Annie." 
There are still others which came out of that time 
and are still occasionally encountered, reviving the 
memories of long ago, viz: — "The Old Kentucky 
Home," "Nora O'Neal," "Old Cabin Home," and 
many others. 

A certain wise man has said, "Let me write the 
ballads of a country, and I care not who makes her 

40 



The Father to the Man. 

laws." This Is not meant to disparage statesmanship, 
but to give emphasis to the fact that songs, accepted 
by the people as expressions of national sentiment, 
have a far greater influence than the statutes enacted 
to carry out given political doctrines and purposes. 
In fact, there seems to be something in human nature 
which demands a musical outlet for certain forms of 
patriotic feeling. There never was a nation so poor 
that it did not possess at least one ballad dear to the 
general heart and serving as a source of inspiration 
to its people in times of peril. 

The dauntless courage and heroism of boyhood in 
times of great national peril, as well as at critical 
moments in ordinary life, has inspired the bards of 
all ages, while some of the most powerful and touch- 
ing lyrics of the past have been devoted to this rich 
theme. There is the touching fate of "Casabianca," 
dying at his post of duty, on the blazing quarter- 
deck of a French battleship ; the deathless glory of 
the soldier boy of "Bingen, Sweet Bingen on the 
Rhine" ; numerous heroic deeds of the boys of the 
Revolution and during the subsequent Indian wars. 
Such incidents deserve to live in song and story, 
and to be wreathed with chaplets of glory in the 
pantheon of immortality. 

The history of the war of the Rebellion is replete 
with such deeds of boyish daring and heroism, which 
are among the most touching and glorious events of 
that dark period of our national life. "The Drummer 
Boy at Shiloh" was only one of many youthful 

41 



Old School Days. 

patriots who fearlessly faced death in all its horrid 
forms ; the glorious feat of young Dick West at Perry- 
ville, and that of the boy, Billy Durham, at Vicksburg. 
who seized a shell, with its burning fuse, and threw 
it over the ramparts. These are only isolated in- 
stances of heroic deeds, with which boyhood has 
aided in making immortal history. Though pro- 
hibited from enlistment they adopted every specious 
device to join the armies, not only declaring them- 
selves of legal age, but when defeated in this, hiding 
among the luggage of the forage and ammunition 
wagons and appearing in the thick of an engage- 
ment. 

The war period also brought its trials and hard- 
ships to the homes of the South, where the boy was 
left as the sole and only protector of the family. 
How well he discharged this serious obligation is 
shown by] the record of peace and quiet, which al- 
most universally reigned, remote from the scenes of 
war. Though surrounded by five million slaves, 
who could not feel otherwise than inimical to the 
cause for which the Southrons were fighting, it is 
creditable to the uniform good behavior of these 
blacks, towards the wives and children of their white 
masters, that few criminal or overt acts were con- 
mitted. It was easily in the power of the negro, at 
this time, to have dealt a serious blow and materially 
assisted in the consummation of his freedom, and 
no matter from what motive he desisted, it certainly 



42 



The Father to the Man. 

furnishes a bright page in his history for which 
he deserves unstinted credit. 

From the operation of blockades, and being shut 
off from the outside world, there was a transforma- 
tion in every southern home, as soon as the meagre 
supplies of luxuries, clothing and beverages had been 
exhausted. Everything, in theory and practice, soon 
wore the air of the, home-made. Ales, wines and 
brandies, previously imported in large quantities, 
were soon unknown luxuries, and their place was 
supplied from distillations of the cereals, fruits and 
berries common in the country. Coffee and tea were 
at first mixed with other things to extend the life of 
the small and precious stock on hand, but soon these 
were exhausted and substitutes were found in wheat, 
corn, potatoes and okra, which were parched, dried 
and ground, making a very fair substitute beverage. 
There was an almost immediate shortage of cloth- 
ing, dress goods and finer materials, and this at 
once resuscitated and the ancient loom and spinning- 
jenny, which assumed proportions of an almost uni- 
versal industry in a very brief period. Even the 
hour-glass, flint and steel and other ancient impro- 
visations were dug from their forgotten graves and 
sublimated to everyday use. On every hand inge- 
nuity and embryonic invention were struggling with 
important problems, forced upon the country by the 
exigencies of war. In the midst of these practical 
trials and perplexities of his elders, the boy was also 
bereft of some of his most cherished toys, playthings 

43 



Old School Days. 

and ornaments, but was equal to the occasion, and 
he, too, became an inventor and creator of no mean 
abiHty. His kites, sHngs and pop-guns were easily 
manufactured ; it was more difficult with his tops, 
balls, marbles, explosives and cannon, but he was un- 
daunted, and some of the rude imitations then fabri- 
cated are among the most interesting relics of the war 
period. Pieces of hard rubber, taken from car- 
bumpers, secured and covered by windings of yarn 
thread, constituted the ball of the schoolboy; pieces 
of old iron pipe were filed off and made into 
cannon, while many of the hard woods were 
fashioned into tops. Finger rings and ear- 
rings, as well as brooches and other ornaments were 
made from old pieces of gutta-percha, as well as the 
softer portion, or upper part, of the hoofs of animals. 
In fact the boy was not far behind his elders in im- 
provising substitutes for whatever appealed to his in- 
dividual taste and requirements. 



44 



Practical Jokes and Ingenious Pranks. 



CHAPTER III. 

Practical 3okc$ ana Ingenious Franks. 

The small boy is the pioneer in practical joking, 
and it constitutes one of the chief joys of his life. 
He may not be considerate of the feelings of animals, 
or his fellows, but they nevertheless suffer, both men- 
tally and physically, in being the victims of his arts and 
crafts. His idea of practical joking is to produce 
laughter, and he oftentimes allows no obstacle to 
stand in his way in carrying out his pranks, jokes 
and cruelty. 

These will include jerking a chair from underneath 
an unsuspecting playmate, as he is about to take his 
seat ; attaching cans to the tails of timorous dogs and 
starting them on a wild run through the village ; 
tying the tails together of two belligerent tomcats 
and hanging them over a clothesline, to tear and 
lacerate each other to death; concealing stolen articles 
in another's pocket or desk, and having them accused 
of thievery ; placing bent pins in the bottoms of chairs, 
or deftly arranging them in the bed where the victim 
is to sleep ; stealing or hiding the clothes of play- 
mates while they are in bathing; "nagging on" 
fights, by telling each belligerent of insults the other 
has publicly offered him ; decoying "Cissy-boys" 

45 



Old School Days. 

away from home and then running off and leaving 
them, in their trepidation, in some lonely spot ; stretch- 
ing wires across the sidewalks at night to trip up 
unsuspecting pedestrians ; making bogies and scare- 
crows and setting them up, in a life-like way, in 
"Black Mammy's" cabin ; dressing in ghostly habila- 
ments and knocking at sister's door to frighten her 
when the door's opened ; throwing rocks through the 
sash and panes of untenanted houses ; stuffing cotton 
in the schoolbell, or taking out the clapper, to arouse 
the ire of the teacher ; placing cockle-burrs underneath 
the tails of docile and confiding animals to see them 
aroused to a mad pitch of frenzy and excitement. 
These pranks, cruelties and general devilment are 
only a small proportion of the numberless crafts of 
the small boy, to which might be added his thieveries 
in pear and apple orchards as well as "goober" fields 
and melon patches. 

There is a disposition on the part of some men, 
who have entered the serious walks of life, to blot 
out this period of their existence, if not to openly deny 
ever having taken part in any such cruelties and dia- 
bolism as are here revealed. But such shirking or 
denial is useless, as there never lived a boy who did 
not possess a large amount of inherent savagery, 
which only needed the time and opportunity for full 
demonstration. A volume could be written about 
every man's life, and you can never tell at a glance 
what has been the past of a man. I know an humble 
carpenter, who was once a ])rize orator in one of our 

46 



Practical Jokes and Ingenious Pranks. 

famous institutions of learning. Not far from my 
boyhood's home Hved an old, decrepit woman that 
had been reduced almost to beggary, and yet, in her 
youth she is said to have been a woman of marvelous 
beauty. Poems were dedicated to her charms, and 
duels were arranged between her rival suitors. Over 
there, in the secluded spot, lives a hermit who all his 
life has been doing atonement for killing his school- 
teacher in a moment of passion ; there goes a man who 
is leading an intensely religious life — the result of re- 
morse in having caused the death of a comrade over 
a peccadillo in youth. Young people are interesting 
for what they are, but the older folks are interest- 
ing for w*hat they have been, if they could be induced 
to tell the story. As a further illustration of the 
innate savagery in boys, I will relate a true story of 
one of those occurrences which often lead to a life- 
time of suffering. As one of the participants I can 
give the proper version and the true facts. 

There were three of us — boon companions — in 
those early days who shared each other's joys and 
sorrows. In school days we were in league against 
all the other boys, and it was only by a special dis- 
pensation — unanimous consent — that any outsider was 
admitted in our holiday excursions, to share with us 
the equivocal glory of the mischief that was generally 
perpetrated. 

Billy Wilson was the acknowledged leader, and 
his decision upon matters of vital import to the boys 
was nearly always final — whether the matter in hand 

47 



Old School Days. 

was a predatory excursion to a neighboring melon- 
patch, the combined assault upon an inviting orchard, 
or a secret conclave in the depths of the swamp, to 
decide upon the fate of a neighbor's boy who had 
tattled upon us. Billy was always the chief spokes- 
man, and, as he had the courage of his convictions, 
he was always foremost in any danger that lurked, 
and the first to resent an interference or to attack 
an adversary. 

Ralph Henson was a boy of many admirable char- 
acteristics and a good second to the pranks of Wilson, 
but he was quick-tempered and often got us into 
trouble that could have been easily avoided if he had 
kept his wits and acted with ordinary prudence. In 
his moments of anger, too, he was dangerous, even 
to ferocity, and would stop at nothing if he felt that 
he had been wronged or any undue advantage taken 
of our trio. 

As for myself, in those far-away days of school 
life, I will attempt no detailed description, but suffice 
it to say that I entered with spirit and energy into 
all our boyish undertakings and though inclined to 
peacefulness, I was often unwillingly drawn into the 
fights of my more belligerent companions. It was 
not long before what we termed our "Triple Alliance" 
was the occasion of the most bitter envy, or even 
vindictiveness of the other boys, who had been ex- 
cluded from our set. 

Very naturally this led to a combination of all 
the outside elements against us, and it was gen- 

48 



Practical Jokes and Ingenious Pranks. 

erally understood that when one of us should be caught 
away from the others we were hkely to get a "thump- 
ing." This avowed hostihty was more especially 
directed against Billy and Ralph, though I was often 
pounced upon for no other reason than the fact of 
their not succeeding in squaring scores with the 
other two. As I didn't fancy this sort of vicarious 
sacrifice, and had been repeatedly disciplined by my 
father for engaging in unnecessary broils, I resolved 
to declare a truce and come to an understanding 
with the enemy. Jack Clarke was the leader of the 
opposition forces and he ordered a suspension of hos- 
tilities, the armistice to last until the following Satur- 
day morning, when we were to hold a peace con- 
ference in a distant chestnut grove about two miles 
away from the village. As I had said nothing to 
Billy and Ralph regarding this most momentous step 
they were somewhat puzzled for the next few days 
at the peaceful turn of events, and before the expira- 
tion of the truce, they were chafing under the en- 
forced restraint and actually "spoiling" for a melee. 

In some way they got an inkling of the proposed 
conference and with only a vague idea of its pur- 
poses, immediately construed it as a piece of treason 
for which I was to be brought to a serious account. 
There was a determined, resolute look in the face 
of Wilson and an ugly scowl on the countenance of 
Ralph when I met them early the next morning. 
As I felt a certain amount of guilt for what I was 
about to do, without consulting them, I inwardly knew 

49 



Old School Days. 

that their demeanor and appearance betokened a 

knowledge of the secret. But they did not say a word 
that would indicate the least information on the sub- 
ject, and rather showed a disposition to talk upon 
the most foreign topics. After they had ascertained, 
by circumlocutive questioning, about the time I should 
leave home, they gradually drew away and disap- 
peared. Two hours later I was on the way to the 
rendezvous in the chestnut wood. As I approached 
the place, with my thoughts somewhat excitedly ab- 
sorbed in the plan I was revolving in mind, I formed 
a vague idea, or imagined that I saw some one dis- 
appearing in the recesses of the wood. For a mo- 
ment I thought it was Clarke, who might have pre- 
ceded me, but on reaching the place there was no 
appearance of any one and I sat down in the shade 
of a great tree to once more run over and mature 
my plans. I had made up my mind to withdraw 
from active participation in the Triple Alliance, but 
would reserve the right of a moral support to my two 
colleagues. I had pondered over this but a few min- 
utes, when the sound of approaching footsteps caused 
me to look up, and I saw Jack Clarke nearing the 
wood. He carried himself with a mean sort of 
swagger, as he had much of the bully in his com- 
position, and this rather irritated me, and before he 
reached me I had half resolved to desist from treat- 
ing with him upon any terms. Negotiations were 
opened, however, by his proffer of a piece of apple 

50 



Practical Jokes and Ingenious Pranks. 

he was leisurely eating, and we both assumed seats 
under the tree. 

"Well," he said, "if you's ready to give them other 
two cusses the 'shake,' we'll just go to business." 

He had hardly finished his sentence when two figures 
jumped out of the undergrowth, and, in an instant, I 
found myself in the sturdy grip of Billy Wilson, 
while Ralph and Jack were tumbling about in a mighty 
struggle for the mastery. Clarke, believing that trea- 
son had been practiced, fought like a Trojan, and 
in a few moments had pounded Ralph's face unmerci- 
fully and had taken a vicious hold upon his throat. 
Just then a glimse of Ralph's face showed him trans- 
figured and there was a look of a demon in his eye. 
Wrenching himself lose by a quick movement he 
drew out his pocket-knife and quickly opening it, 
rushed upon his adversary, like a maddened beast, and 
ere we had time to even consider his intentions, he 
buried the blade to the hilt in Clarke's neck. He 
fell backward under the force of the blow and as 
we rushed up and caught Ralph, his victim attempted 
to rise, as a great purple stream spurted from the 
wound, and he once more succumbed from the loss 
of blood. 

We were all transfixed with horror r.nd terror, 
until the poor fellow, who was gasping and groaning, 
brought us to our senses. I rushed away for a doctor 
and Wilson ran to the home of the boy's parents to 
impart the startling news, leaving Ralpn to attend 
his victim until we should return. When a doctor 

51 



Old School Days. 

arrived the patient had fainted, but a stout bandage, 
pressed against the wound, had staunched the flow of 
blood. His head rested easily against a pillow of 
Ralph's coat, but the latter had suddenly and com- 
pletely disappeared. The poor boy had done all he 
could for his wounded adversary, and, terrified at the 
awful deed he had committed, as well as the dying 
appearance of his victim, had precipitately fled, no one 
knew where. 

The doctor declared the wound to be extremely 
serious. The wounded boy was removed to his home, 
where he lingered between life and death for several 
months, though to the intense gratification of all of 
us he finally recovered. In the meantime, it had re- 
quired most powerful influences to prevent a criminal 
prosecution of Billy and myself, although we had 
made a clear and concise statement of the whole affair, 
Ralph was never again seen in that community. 
After many years of absence, vague rumors reached 
us that he had been wonderfully successful in mining 
operations in the far west. Jack Clarke, reformed, 
steady and shrewd, became a prosperous merchant 
in his native state, having been the recipient of a 
mysterious check for five thousand dollars, with no 
other explanation than the enclosure from a western 
bank — and every one knew from whence it came. 
Billy Wilson became a famous lawyer and now oc- 
cupies a seat, as an influential member of the United 
States Congress. 

In spite of all these facts as to the inherent bad- 

33 



Practical Jokes and Ingenious Pranks. 

ness of boys, we still hear sedate school boards and 
educational philosophers denouncing corporal punish- 
ment, when, at times, the Russian knout vigorously 
applied, would hardly seem out of place. While the 
old system of flagellation, for anything and every- 
thing, was wrong, its total abolition from the modern 
school is a great mistake. There are certain boys — 
bad boys — who are afraid of nothing but physi- 
cal pain. You waste on them, alike sarcasm and 
pleadings ; they laugh at you ; and what is worse 
than all, they demoralize other and younger boys. 
School discipline, with a bad boy or two in the class, 
is an impossibility. A sound thrashing, physiologi- 
cally administered, is a curative measure, and is 
really the only hope, in school, of reforming ruffianly 
boys, and those inclined to be sneaks and cowards. 
If such testimony will be accepted, I will say that I 
was an average boy at school, in all that goes to 
make up the good, bad and indifferent traits of that 
period. And I am willing to go on record as say- 
ing that all corrections that I received in school — - 
and they were not a few — tended greatly and effec- 
tively to advance my educational interest ; and I fancy 
the truthful opinions of most men Avill coincide with 
mine, as regards their own educational discipline. 



53 



Old School Days. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Superstitions, terrors and 6riefs. 

The child has been called father to the man and 
this is undoubtedly true, not only in the world of 
realities, but in the world of imagination. The boy 
early in life begins to imbibe the legends of the mys- 
terious, and to enter that region of shadows and 
phantoms ; a region of shapeless forms and visions, 
where the real has given place to the unreal, and all 
is vague, obscure and contradictory. It is a misty 
realm, in which dwell all the gods of mythology ; a 
world beyond the Styx, into which ^neas wandered 
— an unexplored kingdom of the dead, haunted by 
the lone bark of Charon — a land where, with dubious 
oracles, the midnight hags confound the soul of Mac- 
beth ; the region of Gulliver, trembling in the huge 
grasp of his Brobdingnagian host. Indeed, from 
Santa Claus to the Goblin Crew of Yule, the air is 
full of myths and dreams, while the sight of holly 
and mistletoe reopens a world of fancies and folk- 
lore. These supernatural creatures are accredited 
with inhabiting regions sacred to themselves. Se- 
questered dales, rich in gorgeous flowers, or grottoes 
of coral and pearl, in shining dells of the sea. Elves, 
fairies, brownies and weefolk are called into exist- 

54 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

ence, while the creative fancy peoples the air with 
soul-compelling divinities. These fairies, elves, 
nymphs and pixies have existed for time immemo- 
rial. Chaucer, who knew everything and had a ripe, 
rich heart for everybody, makes them old people even 
in King Arthur's time — that reign so much associated 
with the glamorous nursery legends of our delect- 
able days. In his "Merchant's Tale" he says: 

"Full often-time lie, Phito, and his quene 
Proserpina, and all her faerie 
Disporten him, and maken nielodie 
About that well." 

And these weefolk are said to ride on steeds, with 
hoofs so ethereally light that "they would not dash 
the dew from the chalice of the hare-bell." 

But a sterner and more fierce superstition seizes the 
boy as he emerges from extreme youth and mingles 
with the darkies and other associates. His credulous 
mind is prolific soil for any and everything out of the 
natural, and he embraces, with avidity, all that is 
related about ghosts, witches, the Evil Eye, the incan- 
tations of the Voodoo, and all the charms, spells and 
strange powers attributed to witchcraft. And the 
boy, with his innocence and inexperience, can't be 
blamed for subscribing to this belief, with the pages 
of history so luminous with the fanaticisms of his 
elders. There is perhaps no chapter, in all the record 
of human frailty and weakness, that is more painful 
or astounding to our modern notions, than that de- 

55 



Old School Days. 

voted to witchcraft. The delusion was not Hke one 
of those sudden outbreaks of fanaticism, which spring 
up, nobody knows how, and die away as suddenly ; 
it was regarded as a lasting evil to be punished with 
the severest penalties of the church and the state. 

For the most part the people who suffered and 
died under this reign of terror were women. They 
were generally old and ugly ; but sometimes young 
and fair women suffered on the rack and at the stake 
imder the terrible imputation of witchcraft. To be 
accused of the crime was in most cases to be con- 
demned, as there was little chance of escape, for the 
test to which accused persons were put, in order to 
try their innocence, generally proved mortal. To 
throw an old woman into the water, and if she sinks, 
to save her character at the expense of her life, is 
hardly kind to the old woman. A prominent his- 
torical illustration of the English faith in witchery 
is that of Richard III., who accused Edward's wife 
and Jane Shore of bewitching him and making his 
arm a "blasted sapling." 

A similar accusation of sorcery is found in the 
career and death of the ill-fated Joan of Arc, who 
was declared a "devilish witch and satanical enchant- 
ress." 

Witchcraft is indeed a fruitful subject, but enough 
has been said here for our purpose, and that jwr- 
pose is to remind the reader that this terrible form 
of superstition, like so many others which stain the 
pages of history, has never yet died out. It still 

56 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

held force in our childhood, and there is no evidence 
to show that it is yet extinct in the country districts. 
Among the southern negroes, where it has taken the 
form of Voodooism, it still undoubtedly manifests 
great tenacity of life, from the annual gatherings 
which continue to take place in remote and secret 
corners of thinly populated sections of the country. 
They still have their witch-doctors and soothsayers 
who, for small stipends, will administer to all kinds 
of physical and mental wants. 

Among the terrors of childhood, outside of the cor- 
poral punishment both at home and school, possibly 
superstition holds the most prominent place in the 
youthful mind. Foremost among these, "Ha'nts" 
have ever held the greatest terror to boys, and this 
superstition was always associated with a cat, which 
was supposed to come back from the spirit land to 
terrify timorous youngsters. And while this fact was 
ominous and was fed by the Voodoo's teaching, it 
placed a wide gulf between the boy and the cat. In- 
deed, it would be an anomaly to find the juvenile 
who could ever summon a genuine spark of love 
in his heart for grimalkin. 

I well remembered that my father had a groom, in 
the long ago, who was much exorcised in his mind on 
the subject of dreams. He was not an estimable 
fellow, and I am afraid he did not teach me much 
good. He had a small collection of dream books. 
Where he got them I know not, but many a time 
have I sneaked into the harness-room to pore over 

57 



Old School Days. 

those books. I can remember little more than the 
look of them now, but my flesh used to creep at one 
dream, which was set down with a horrid vividness. 
It was the dream of an unhappy visionary, who, as 
he slept, beheld two enormous cats, with great fiery 
eyes, glaring at a wreath of curling smoke that kept 
rising from the earth, and was forever changing its 
form. Suddenly the cloud-like appearance assumed 
a human shape, and then one cat sprang upon the other, 
and the mangling, howling and slaughter super- 
vened. The dream book went on to say that this 
was dreamt by a Jack Somebody for three consecutive 
nights before he murdered Tom Somebodyelse, whom 
he found with his sweetheart Polly. It was in vain 
that the slaughtered pair were buried in the same 
hole, for Jack had dreamt that the smoke issued from 
the bowels of the earth, and that meant that murder 
will out, and so it came to pass that Jack was hanged. 
The dream book said that "smoke rising from the 
ground meant detection," as was evident from the 
instance given. Therefore I was impressed that 
when you dreamed of curling smoke, you would 
avoid following in the steps of Cain. We were all 
firm believers in the cat's colleagueship with the devil, 
as the negroes could cite numerous cases of where 
cats had sucked the breath of infants. 

Other terrors and superstitions of childhood were 
passing graveyards at night, the hooting of owls, 
haunted houses, and hearing strange sounds in the 
middle of the night. 

58 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

But beyond the ghost that came along the church 
aisles and corridors, or followed the heels of the mur- 
derer with avenging hands, there was another per- 
sonage who filled the youthful mind with unspeak- 
able terror, and that was "Old Satan." The nurse 
and black mammy had supplied all details as to his 
hideous proportions, horned head, cloven hoof and 
forked tail, while at church and Sunday-school we 
were apprised of his awful havoc in the world and 
in the Plutonian regions where he gathered and 
burned his victims. Just what this hideous creature 
has done towards moulding childish character, by 
creating unparalleled consternation and fear of him, 
is not easy to determine, but he certainly plays an im- 
portant part in child life, either for weal or woe. 

Returning to the subject of ghosts it must be ad- 
mitted that this mania is as deeply rooted in a boy's 
mental organism, as the passion for games and prac- 
tical jokes. These ghosts always came with hostile 
purposes. They are murderous demons, spectral 
vampires, carnivorous blood-thirsty night-prowlers, 
stealing upon the sleeper with cat-like steps. To the 
children of nature, nocturnal phantoms and bugbears 
are still synonymous terms. At sight of a "material- 
ized spirit," the village boy's first impulse would not 
be to stop and inquire as to whose astral body it 
might be, but to whoop and run with a speed that 
would literally "burn the wind." 

The boy never took much stock in the wraith or 
spectral form of the astral bodv ; to him they were 

59 



Old School Days. 

all horrible ghosts, and he would hold no acquaintance 
with them. You couldn't make him believe them 
harmless any more than that you might convince 
him that the pills and rhubarb that you gave him 
were sweet and palatable. 

The spectres which have always frightened our 
plantation negroes were ogres of the same sort. Pro- 
fessor Devereaux in the "Southern Bivouac," gives 
us a characteristic sample : — A notoriously wicked 
"nigger" was riding along a country road late at 
night, when he spied a curious looking object on 
the stake-and-rider fence on the side of the road. 
His horse at the same moment balked and by snort- 
ing and trembling, evinced a great fear of the thing 
— whatever it was — and refused to pass it. No one 
had ever supposed this spot, or any adjacent one, to 
be haunted, and the negro had no reason to think 
he was "gwyne to be kotched," unless on the score 
of his general bad character, or the fact that then, in 
violation of standing orders, he was riding one of 
his master's best horses. He described the object 
which terrified his horse and soon afterward himself, 
as resembling a huge grub-worm. It was white, and 
about the size of a large flour sack and was leisurely 
crawling along on the top rails of the fence. After 
striving in vain by kicks and blows to force the horse 
forward he thoughtlessly swore a big oath. 

Instantly the thing — or ogre — fell from the fence 
and wriggling across the road, squirmed up on the 
horse's back behind the terrified "nigger" and sat on 

60 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

end, with its clawed pedals on his shoulders, and its 
head, like that of a gigantic caterpillar, thrown before 
his face, its huge, wormy jaws emitting an unearthly 
and appalling chuckle. The darkey howled, and the 
horse, now mad with fright, fled like the wind. Sud- 
denly the thing released its hideous clutch, dropped 
to the ground, and disappeared. 

Among other myths and superstitions of boyhood 
is that which attaches good luck to the possessor of 
the left hind foot of a graveyard rabbit ; or the 
smooth nut of the buck-eye; looking over the right 
shoulder at the new moon or hanging an old horse 
shoe over the door, dreaming of snakes, burning 
bread or breaking a mirror, are infallible indications 
of bad luck ; never start upon a journey on Friday, 
and beware of all things containing the number 
thirteen ; if you burn hair cut from the head, witches 
will find it and give you a headache, while carrying 
milk over running water will cause the cow to go 
dry. 

Among the numerous fears of boyhood may be 
reckoned sleeping alone, remote from the apartments 
of others of the household. This usually produces 
sleeplessness and a wideawake boy, alone in a dark 
room at midnight, is very apt to make the fact known 
to the balance of the house. At first he is ashamed to 
display his fears, but as he lies still queer sounds 
emerge out of the silence — sounds, which in the 
daytime he would wholly disregard. He hears low, 
stifled voices on the lawn, or under his window — h^ 

61 



Old School Days. 

is sure that a creak on the doorstep betokens the 
stealthy approach of a burglar, and the indistinct, 
surly growl of the watch-dog, is convincing proof 
that the house is surrounded by murderous minions. 
He dashes out of bed and plunges, terror stricken, into 
mother's apartments to tell about the invisible enemies, 
which are assembling or have assaulted the house. 
The frightful lies which boys can invent under such 
excitement, would do justice to a sailor. It is a prone- 
ness to exaggeration which characterizes all boyish 
anecdotes and stories. If he should be chased by 
a single dog he rushes home and tells that a whole 
pack of vicious canines had come near tearing him to 
pieces. If a bellowing bull comes plunging across 
the pasture, with an ominous tail switching in the 
air, the boy is morally sure that all the vast herd 
in that enclosure are madly pursuing him. If he 
sees a covey of quail, he is convinced there are a 
thousand, and if he encounters a squirrel, the woods 
are simply full of them. 

Among the griefs of boyhood, outside of taking 
pills or going to the dentist, the most real and poignant 
is unrequited love. The loves of children, often called 
"puppy-love," are just as real and genuine as any 
sentiment of their elders. It has its pathos, its sub- 
limities and its tragedies — its supreme heights of bliss 
and its lowest depths of despair — which act as 
powerfully upon their emotional natures, as if they 
had entered the more serious estate of manhood. 
The very vigor and vitality of childish love causes 

62 



Superstitions Terrors and Griefs. 

misery because it dies of its own intensity It is, 
while it lasts, as beautiful as the morning-glory, and 
withers almost as soon. 

In the first flush of young affection we cannot 
believe in the possibility of a change ; we cannot imag- 
ine that our present idol can be dethroned and are 
proudly convinced that our valentine of to-day must 
and will be the valentine of a long to-morrow. But 
alas, there comes a rude awakening — our air-castles 
are thrown down — the dream is broken and the world 
takes on a sombre hue, in presence of the inexor- 
able fact that our undying love is unrequited. The 
idol, which we had enshrined in our hearts, is not only 
unfaithful, but pours vitriol upon the wounded and 
lacerated hearts by showering smiles upon a rival. 
It is a bitter cup and we bow down in the depths of 
despair, willing to die upon the funeral pyre of de- 
parted love. 

The mental agony which the small boy suffers, 
in making up his mind to go to the dentist, and have 
a tooth pulled, would furnish a masterpiece to repre- 
sent terror and cowardice. When he finally screws 
up his courage to visit the dentist, it is with an air 
of abject despair that he gets into the chair, while 
he insists on holding his jaws a few minutes longer, 
in the hope that the tooth will leap out of its own 
accord. He looks upon the dentist as an arch enemy 
of his happiness, and one who delights in torturing 
mortals. He watches him as he seizes the forceps, 
and when the ominous request comes "open your 

63 



Old School Days. 

mouth" he pleads a few moments' respite, that he may, 
without the dentist's knowledge, take a look at the in- 
strument of torture that is about to be inserted in 
his mouth. Finally he drops back helpless and in a 
jiffy the offending tooth is jerked out. Ten to one, 
he will request the tooth to take away with him, as 
a sort of practical evidence of his bravery, which he 
will show to his comrades. 

The foundation for bad teeth is generally laid in 
childhood, commencing when mothers and nurses 
persist in softening the food and removing bread 
crust because it may "hurt the teeth," and for a long 
time the child thus grows up a set of unused organs 
in its mouth. We then wonder why the poor child 
has such bad teeth. These teeth are subject to the 
same laws that govern other organs and their strength 
and exemption from decay is determined by their 
use. Understanding this, if we ever become a tooth- 
less race it will be our own fault. 

Being sick and having the doctor come and give 
you a lot of nasty medicine is the common experience 
of boyhood, and constitutes a dark era that is never 
forgotten. There is little doubt that many times 
boys have suffered long in secret in preference to 
making known their ills and being forced to take 
pills and other medicines, revolting both to the taste 
and to the stomach. There is something in simply 
calling the doctor that alarms the boy, who reasons 
out that home remedies have been unavailing and that 
his case must be serious when professional skill is 

64 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

demanded. When the doctor comes, grasps his pulse, 
and looks at his tongue, he says nothing, but in taci- 
turn meditation, looks from his watch to the ceiling, 
as though counting the moments when the soul of the 
patient will take its upward flight. This is an un- 
fortunate habit of many medical men — especially the 
younger ones — who seem to think that a melancholy 
countenance is the index of professional wisdom. 
This is not the case, but even if it were, a reputation 
which is established at the cost of an invalid's stock 
of hope or comfort, would be too dearly bought. 
One of the greatest masters of humor in English 
fiction, gives an anecdote of the physician who was 
taken by the patient for the undertaker, and it is not 
incredible. The same author also describes the 
elaborate stealthiness with which certain well-meaning 
persons enter the sick-room as being more calculated 
to disturb the nerves of an invalid, than the entrance 
of a horse-soldier at full gallop. Quiet, like righteous- 
ness itself, may be overdone, and similarly the gravity 
very proper to the medical practitioner is often pushed 
beyond its limit. 

Foremost among a boy's antipathies (and no one 
knows it better than his mother) is being sent to 
Sunday-school and to church. There may appear, at 
long intervals of time, as a prominent exception, a 
boy who loves to attend Sunday-school, but he is 
such a rare exception that he can't be considered in 
this history of boy life. The preparation was irk- 
some — learning the catechisms and other lessons was 

65 



Old School Days. 

too much like the day-school — he was required to 
sing and he couldn't sing, and he knew that going 
to Sunday-school also meant that he should remain at 
church. There was no reason why he should be so 
violently opposed to Sunday-school, as the task was 
light and the session short — but it was simply one 
of those perversities of childhood that are inexplica- 
ble. 

A boy's antipathy to long prayers and long, incom- 
prehensible sermons is easily explained on very natural 
grounds. In this particular, he is not unlike the 
generality of his elders, who share the self-same prej- 
udices with the boy. Emerson has expressed his 
dislike of the ordinary sermon, because the majority 
of preachers "go about and about" their subject 
without presenting anything that one can really take 
hold of, with the exception perhaps of the text. He 
says that there is often so little of human nature — 
of that which actually touches the experience of the 
hearer — in a discourse from the pulpit, that he has 
found himself wondering if the preacher had ever 
been a man at all. I was much amused a few years 
since at a controversy which occupied the lists, as to 
the reasons why people do not go to church, and it 
was curious to observe the diametrically opposite 
explanations given. There was a general agreement 
that the sermon was at the bottom of it. One gentle- 
man — and he assuredly stood by himself — thought 
that it was because sermons were too short ; like 
some patent medicine of which only the large bottles 

QQ 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

can be depended on for a cure, he had no confidence 
in small doses of doctrine — you must be saturated 
with it to appreciate it thoroughly. The most numer- 
ous body of these controversialists asserted that ser- 
mons and prayers were too long, while a respectable 
minority were of the opinion that the preacher dwelt 
too much "upon the infidel" (not present) and not 
with cases before him — those of the congregation. 
A member of this last class carried his view further 
and suggested what the preacher should sermonize 
about. He had given out his text when the gentle- 
man arose (as though forbidding the banns) and 
begged the minister to set that text aside and to 
select the following, on which he had a real desire 
to be enlightened : — "Speak unto the children of 
Israel, and bid them put upon the fringe of their gar- 
ments a ribbon of blue." The unfortunate minister, 
unwilling, and perhaps unable to preach at sight 
upon such a special subject, declined to obey, and 
thereby, one fears, has added a unit to the ranks of 
discontent. 

There are a multitude of other things associated 
with boy life, which properly belong to this division 
of the subject, but we can only refer to a few of them, 
and in the briefest possible manner, lest we should be 
compelled to crowd out or curtail other features. 
No boy ever lived who Vv-as not afraid of a drunken 
man, altercations upon the street, run-away horses, 
vicious yard dogs, cows and billy-goats, as well as 
snakes, lizards and other reptiles. He was equally 

67 



Old School Days. 

timorous of all the stinging insects, like bees, wasps, 
hornets and yellow-jackets, beside many other name- 
less creeping things. 

He also had his social trials and tribulations, and 
being left without an invitation to a candy-pulling, 
party or picnic, stabbed his pride and left him as 
miserable as one could be. His humiliation and 
mortification was complete when he was whipped in 
presence of the school or was kept in for any bad 
deportment or missing his lessons. He carried home 
an aching heart when he had lost all his marbles and 
possibly his top and kite into the bargain. He had 
his discomforts with stubbed toes and his summer 
aggregation of stone bruises, while the cup of his 
misery was complete when he was kept away from 
the circus by having the whooping cough. 

As an instance of negro superstition, we subjoin 
the following story: 

Uncle Tom was an old-fashioned darkey, with all 
the good nature and rude attractions which char- 
acterize this fast-fading specimen of ante-bellum days. 
He lived with Aunt Cindy in the little hut on the out- 
skirts of the town, and gained a livelihood by doing 
odd jobs for the neighbors and raising chickens for 
the market. Aunt Cindy contributed to the livelihood 
by "takin' in washin'," and the fame of her superior- 
ity in this line was far and wide. 

The children of this union had been widely dis- 
persed, and though a numerous progeny had been 
vouchsafed them by an inscrutable Providence, they 

68 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

had become scattered, after reaching the estate of man- 
hood, and there was little information as to their 
exact whereabouts. Only one, "Jim," the youngest 
son, was ever considerate enough to occasionally re- 
turn to share the frugal comforts of the paternal roof, 
and gladden the hearts of his aged parents. 

"Jim" bad attained a certain amount of success as 
a barber in a distant city, but like most of the negroes 
in this calling, he was very improvident and spent 
most of his earnings for fine clothes and gewgaws, 
to maintain a social position in the bon-ton circles 
of his race. 

But he had the one redeeming trait of love for 
the old people, and they, in turn, regarded Jim with 
something akin to idolatry, and their happiness seemed 
to have reached its most supreme height whenever 
he chose to make them a visit, which was about the 
closing month of summer. 

But, for some unexplained reason, Jim had not 
made his annual visit this season. The old people 
had anxiously awaited some tidings from the absent 
boy, but none came. Autumn had now passed and 
the wintry winds had begun to whistle througli the 
chinks of the cabin, as the old couple sat and gazed 
into the fire with sad and longing looks. Only that 
day, for the third time. Uncle Tom had requested 
"Marse" George to write again for some word from 
the delinquent son. 

"Hit's mity curous, Mammy," said Tom, after con- 
siderable" meditation, and he fully realized her mind 

69 



Old School Days. 

was upon the same subject. "Hit's mity curous 'bout dat 
boy. He nebber acted so cawse he wanter. Dat 
ain't Jim, but de Lor' knows why he don't sont sum 
writin' back." 

Aunt Cindy could answer nothing. The problem 
was beyond her, and she could only mumble and shake 
her head, while she puffed more vigorously at her 
clay pipe, which had been about her only consolation 
and solace during these months of anxious waiting 
and longing. The silence which ensued for some 
time was only broken by the sputtering of the un- 
seasoned logs and the occasional shrieks of the -wind 
as it struggled to enter the cracks. Suddenly an 
ominous and portentous sound fell upon their super- 
stitious ears — that peculiar, harsh, grating note of the 
screech-owl, which, to the darkey is an infallible sign 
of ill luck or bad news. 

"Dat settle it," said Uncle Tom, while he gazed 
absently at vacuity and contemplated the notes of this 
night bird as removing all doubt and showing plainly 
that some misfortune had overtaken the last binding 
hope they had on earth. This circumstance con- 
strained Aunt Cindy to reveal a fact she had kindly 
intended to keep back from the old man, lest it would 
add to the burden of apprehension already upon his 
mind. She had discovered that afternoon a chicken 
head lying in the yard, with its fatal beak pointed 
toward the house, and, as though adding to the evil 
omen, as she entered the door, two straws were lying 
crossed on the door sill. These were all a full con- 

70 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

firmation of some impending disaster, manifested in 
the fateful screech of the owl. That Jim was now 
under the spell of the Evil Eye admitted of no doubt, 
in their superstitious minds, and though he was 
far away, in unknown parts, they felt it their paternal 
duty to invoke the aid of certain charms and cere- 
monies to drive away the ogre from the path of their 
wayward boy. 

Not far up the street, in the negro settlement 
where Tom lived, resided "Aunt Winnie," the recog- 
nized seeress and "conjur woman" of this community 
of blacks. She was unprepossessing in appearance, 
but she exercised great influence among the ignorant 
members of her race, who both feared and respected 
her, as holding a secret influence over their destiny. 
To them, she was a venerable witch, who could work 
spells through the mysterious influence of certain 
decoctions, or ward off impending trouble by the use 
of certain charms. To the house of this old "conjur 
woman" these two old people repaired that night, 
since they regarded the case as urgent and could not 
rest another night until this paternal duty was per- 
formed. Aunt Winnie received them sullenly, as the 
Voodoo priestess — for such she was — is supposed to 
be too deeply absorbed in the mysteries of the super- 
natural to recognize any conventionalities among 
ordinary mortals. She heard the recital of the case 
with stolidity, for the "conjur woman," as we have 
just said, is not to be moved or stirred by any natural 
human emotions, as her domain is supposed to be 

71 



Old School Days. 

beyond human ken. When they had finished, old 
Winnie sat gazing into the fire for some moments, 
as though revolving the matter in her mind, and try- 
ing to read the fate of Jim in the glaring coals and 
embers. She then leisurely got down on her knees 
and slowly raising one of the larger hearth-stones, 
took from beneath it a small box which she carefully 
placed upon the chair. Still kneeling before it she 
closed her eyes, and, while passing her hands in a 
mesmeric manner back and forth over the lid, mumbled 
some strange incantation, as though invoking the 
aid (as she doubtless was) of unseen spirits. This 
gibberish was uttered in tones soft, low and measured 
at first, but finally swelled into a loud and strange 
appeal to some imaginary deity, who was to unravel 
the mystery in hand. Enjoining her listeners to raise 
their hands in supplication and close their eyes, she 
opened the box, which contained a singular assort- 
ment of witch "properties" — the heads of lizards, 
teeth of snakes, beaks of turtles, dried feet of toads, 
feathers of an owl, besides numerous herbs and seeds 
of noxious and medicinal plants. Selecting a num- 
ber of these, she tied them in a small rag, and while 
continuing to mumble some unrecognizable incanta- 
tion, she placed the charmed parcel in the hands of 
Uncle Tom. 

He was told to go home, without once looking 
back, and place the mysterious parcel under his head 
at night, and by the morning of the third day there- 
after, some positive tidings would come of the absent 

72 



Superstitions, Terrors and Griefs. 

son. Let those who laugh at this superstition note 
carefully what transpired and reconcile it as they will. 

For the next two ensuing days the community was 
thrown into a wild state of excitement by the daring 
deeds of some unknown highwayman, who assaulted 
and robbed several citizens and made good his escape. 
Bloodhounds had been placed upon his track, and all 
the surrounding country had been scoured for the 
robber, of whom no definite description could be 
given. Late in the evening of the second day, when 
the pursuit was about to be abandoned as hopeless 
and futile, the distant baying of all the dogs in 
unison, indicated that they had struck a warm scent, 
and as the villagers listened the yelping grew louder 
and nearer, plainly showing that the trail was lead- 
ing towards town. Down the long slopes of the sur- 
rounding hills, the course of the hounds could be 
marked by their ceaseless barking, and the entire 
village had become awakened to an intense degree 
of excitement. Down came the hounds through the 
leafless undergrowth and plunged into the lower end 
of the village, quickly making the circuit of the same 
by an unfrequented lane, which led up into the negro 
quarters, until the whole pack came to bay at the 
house of Tom and Cindy. Here, at the closed door 
of the cabin, they congregated and barked furiously 
until the pursuers on horses had arrived and dis- 
mounted. 

The amazement of Tom, and the tearful and plain- 
tive protestations of his Avife did not deter the search 

73 



Old School Days. 

until the fugitive, tracked to his lair and concealed 
in the rafters of the house, had been discovered and 
brought into the full glare of the torches. It was 
Jim. He made a full confession of his many criminal 
misdeeds, and in the midst of it, old Tom, overcome 
by the revelation, fell in a fit and was borne into the 
cabin. In a few days Jim was arraigned, convicted 
and sentenced ; and the day he was to leave for the 
convict camp he was granted a brief respite to attend 
the funeral of "Uncle Tom." 



74 



Air-Castles, Day-Dreams, and Hero Worship. 



CHAPTER V. 

Hir=Ca$tk$, DapDrcams, ana Pcro WorsDip. 

Youth is the season of love and romance and the 
most joyous moments of early life are those spent 
in day-dreams of the future. It is one of God's great- 
est gifts, the rearing of castles in the air, those un- 
substantial creations, as impalpable as the spirits 
which the old magicians evoked by spell and cabbala. 
There may be no power of expression, no faculty of 
clothing these airy creations in immortal verse, but 
youth could hear voices in the clouds and see beckon- 
ing hands which would transport him into a region 
not of this world. 

What dazzling castles spring out of his enraptured 
thoughts, gorgeous as these cloud towers, rich in 
amethyst and opalescent hues, with which the sun- 
set loads the quivering horizon. If never before or 
afterwards, the poetic spirit kindles in the bosom of 
youth and maid, at least in the dawn of their first 
passion, they are poets. They see the earth in a 
magical light, which it never wore before and will 
never wear again, except for lovers like themselves. 
And who would ruthlessly destroy these day-dreams 
that, at some time, we all had? Of that brief, bright 

75 



Old School Days. 

season of extravagance it is difficult to write other 
than extravagantly. In later years, when we know 
more about the harsh realities of life and the shadows, 
which lengthen when the sun goes down, how we 
look back, through half smiles and half tears, to the 
splendors of those quondam day-dreams. 

Mrs. Browning, in her "Rhapsody of Life's Prog- 
ress,'" has powerfully described the youthful en- 
thusiasm which overrides all obstacles and accounts 
no action impossible : 

"And we run with the stag and tve leap zuifh the horse, 
And ivc swim with the fish through the broad wafer- 
course; 
And zue strike with the falcon and hunt zvith the 

hound 
'And the joy that is in us flies out zvith a hound. 

"Then zve act to a purpose — zve spring up erect: 
We will tame the wild mouths of the zvilderncss 

steeds; 
We zvill plozv up the seas, in the ships double decked, 
We will build great cities and do the great deeds." 

These delightful fancies of youth convert the world 
into a garden, tenanted only by happy pairs of lovers. 
They dream long dreams, in which nothing sorrowful 
or mean intrudes. They find everything beautiful, 
while the woods echo a music previously unheard. 
A hundred new meanings are found in the flowers. 

76 



Air-Castles, Day- Dreams, aad HQ.ro Worship. 

The young lover takes from his sweetheart's bosom 
a violet, and for the first time becomes aware of all 
its tenderness. She drops a rose, half crushed, half 
faded, but he picks it up as if it were a diamond, 
and lays it next his heart and dreams over its droop- 
ing petals, as he sits alone ; the fine fragrance which 
her fingers have lent to it warms his brain, and, gaz- 
ing at the stars, he crowds the deep blue night with air- 
castles of the rarest architecture, touched with the 
purple bloom of love. 

The witchery of Bunyan's immortal dream is ex- 
perienced, more or less, in the lives of most of us ; and 
he is a poor, helpless pilgrim, indeed, who, how- 
ever footsore and weary, has never in his journey 
happened on the Good Shepherds of the Delectable 
Mountains, or has not caught, though it be with 
strained, hungry eyes, a momentary glimpse of the 
far-off realms of gold. 

In our own experience, whenever in some quiet 
and restful hour, we turn over the pages of memory's 
fascinating scrap-book, we find that all the memorable 
pictures which we can recall are painted in some 
vivid or peculiar effect of light. It is true there may 
come up here and there a scene of ineffable sadness, 
sacred to our own souls alone, into which no light 
comes, but the general principle as indicated is final. 
Of such scenes, in our mind, are those tangled forest 
depths and picnic groves where we played and sang 
with the birds, or toyed with the finny tribe, along 
the mossy banks of the sparkling brook, the leafy 

77 



Old School Days. 

valleys and embowered streams where we hunted the 
purple blackberries and juicy muscadines, and in 
delectable languor slaked our thirst from the cool 
springs of the inviting glades and haunted avenues 
of the forest. 

The dearest idyllic hours which memory brings, 
perchance have come up under the most modest con- 
ditions, so kindly are we dealt with, as to the magic 
of circumstance and the unstinted measure of our 
allotted joys. Nature, in her largeness of heart and 
sweet poetic justice, has given them to all mortals 
alike — to peasant and peer, to lowly cot and lordly 
hall. 

In the halcyon days — also vulgarly called "salad 
days" — the boy is a lofty idealist and hero wor- 
shiper. He sublimates the occupations of the men 
about him and prays for the time when he can be- 
come a street car driver, conductor, bare-back rider 
in the circus, or a lion tamer. The latter, I confess, 
was one of the dreams of my youth. I can never 
forget the deep and lasting impression made upon 
me by the daring of the first man I ever saw enter 
a den of lions. He was called Herr Lengel, and to 
me was one of the most wonderful men I had ever 
seen. He had a pair of keen, bright, penetrating 
eyes, which seemed to really strike fire when he 
frowned. In these searching eyes, I afterwards 
learned, lay the secret of his power. With one in- 
tense, unwavering glance he licld these fierce lions in 
check ; they obeyed it ; they trembled • at it, and 

78" 



Air-Castles, Day-Dreams, and Hero Worship. 

crouched before it. Trusting to this power alone and 
armed only with a tiny dog-vv^hip, he entered the den 
of wild beasts, laid down in the midst of them, ca- 
ressed them, rebuked them, grasped their mighty jaws 
with both hands, showed their teeth to the audience, 
and then pushed his head into the vicious looking 
mouth. It was one of the most soul-stirring scenes 
of my childhood. I was entranced. This wonderful 
Herr Lengel then came out of the cage and gave us 
a brief account of his marvellous career and told how 
he captured these lions. This hero of my imagination 
had shot bears in Russia, lions at the Cape of Good 
Hope, gorillas on the Gaboon, tigers in Bengal, wolves 
in Canada, polar bears in Greenland, buffaloes in 
Montana, jaguars on the Amazon, and kangaroos 
in Australia; besides making brief pleasure trips 
through Ceylon, where, on one occasion he captured 
a white elephant and engaged in a hand-to-hand 
struggle with an ourang-outang. 

I was enraptured and spell-bound by the words and 
deeds of this man, who was a veritable demi-god in 
my eyes. I followed him when he left the cage, 
and timorously waited for an opportunity to speak 
with him, when he so terrified me by an oath, and 
a glance from those fierce eyes that I ran away in 
greatest fright. But I had been hypnotized, and 
found myself creeping up near him again to listen to 
his talk. Again, he uttered some wonderful words, 
to an acquaintance. "So the Rube went agin the 
grafter, in the Kid-top, and got turned for ten cases." 

79 



Old School Days. 

Grand words ! I couldn't understand them, but I 
knew they must be inspiring. In a most graceful and 
eloquent way, he looked toward the band stand, and 
spoke of the "wind jammers," and the noisy man at 
the side show as a "barker," while the laborers were 
"razor backs," the clown was a "patter," the pro- 
prietor "the main guy," and the ring master was 
"cackler." All these wonderful expressions fed my 
day-dream and increased my admiration for the lion 
tamer. It was a long time before my aspirations 
were cooled, and I left off the hope of becoming a 
wild beast tamer. 

This period of youth is also one of unalloyed 
optimism. It has a confidence which nothing can 
shake — a sublime faith in doing great things, and 
working out great ends. The pulse beats strong and 
the freedom from care enjoyed will not permit rival- 
ries and jealousies to spring up, as they will do 
when man's estate is reached. It must be ad- 
mitted that the education of the sentiments receives 
too little attention in these matter-of-fact days. 
Everything is subordinate to intellect and muscle, 
while the sentiments are left to train themselves, 
The same is true of the emotions, which are considered 
as being outside of the province of the school room, 
and the craving of the young idea is manifested in 
his dramatic gestures and imitative language of the 
stage. Indeed the child early becomes an actor and 
it is natural that, when it beholds some grand demon- 
stration of histrionic talent of the stage, a yearning 

80 



Air-Castles, Day-Dreams, and Hero Worship. 

for that life is the result. This longing finds an out- 
let in parlor charades and pantomimes, as well as in 
the dialogues of the school exhibitions and at the 
commencement exercises of the colleges. Some- 
times unusual and unexpected talent is developed, 
which at once opens a career of distinction to the 
aspiring amateur. 

The gilt and tinsel of the stage will be revealed 
later, however, when it is found that there is abso- 
lutely no romance in the life behind the curtain — 
that it is really prosaic, exacting and poorly paid. 

Many years ago, in my freshest "salad days" — 
some of my misguided friends imagined that I could 
act. As I had never tried, I thought so too. We 
organized a histrionic club, with some high-sounding 
name, and it required but one or two meetings to 
convince us that we were sufficiently equipped to dive 
at once into some of the tragedies of Shakespeare. To 
me was assigned one of the leading roles, but only 
until we held our first rehearsal. It is unnecessary 
to linger over the dreary details ; be it sufficient to 
say, that within two tragic hours, I rapidly fell from 
one role to another, until at the close, I was deputed 
to sit upon a stool behind one of the wings to superin- 
tend pulling up and down the curtain. 

Another of the fanciful dreams of boyhood was to 
emulate "Kit" Carson, and other noted scouts and 
Indian slayers, whose marvellous exploits were at 
that time recorded in "Beadles's Dime Novels." The 
love for this class of literature was intense, but we 
81 



Old School Days. 

are glad that it never went so far with us as it did 
with the Httle EngHsh boy, who set a haystack on 
fire to "warm the hands of his Httle sister." But 
this "blood and thunder" class of literature has an 
immense power to sway the emotions of the young. 
I can also remember the eager interest with which 
the boys devoured the pages of Cooper's "Water- 
witch," and "Red Rover," Scott's "Pirate," and 
Byron's "Corsair," and how we even chafed and 
fretted because these glorious tales were all too brief. 
"The Lives of the Pirates" was, to my youthful mind, 
one of the most thrilling books ever written, and it 
was enhanced with pictures of Captains Kidd, Gibbs, 
Tench, Morgan and other buccaneers. Few boys in 
those days escaped the touch of the pirate fever. We 
would dream whole days of the life of the sea rovers, 
and far-away palm islands, where we reigned as 
pirate chiefs, and of our pirate sloops lying at 
anchor in sheltered bays, with tall masts stand- 
ing erect, like Norway pines, the grim mariners 
on the alert to obey our dreaded commander. 
Those day-dreams were, of course, foolish enough, 
but they did no harm. The stimulus they gave to 
the imagination was, on the whole, advantageous, as I 
believe the boys who went most deeply into the sea 
rover line of business were by no means the worst 
scholars. 

As we grew older, however, we found that the 
world was too carefully partitioned out to permit of 
our seizing upon an island anywhere, where we could 

82 



Air-Castles, Day-Dreams, and Hero Worship. 

deposit our booty from gold galleons. We learned, 
too, that the romance of piracy had passed away, and 
that the seas were too well patrolled for any repeti- 
tion to be possible for exploits of the buccaneers and 
filibusters. We came to the conclusion that the race 
of pirates was extinct, a conclusion, which, however, 
a wider and larger knowledge of the social state com- 
pelled us to very considerably modify. For, as Shy- 
lock tells us, "there be land rats and water rats, land 
thieves and water thieves," and the truth of the old 
Jew's assertion is forced upon us by experience. In 
society, pirates are always on the prowl. They hoist, 
perhaps, the black flag of scandal, as full of evil 
augury as any ever lifted by an Olonois or a Mont- 
bars. Then, there are the pirates of trade and com- 
pierce — the "land rats," and those who wage clande- 
stine war against woman's honor and man's reputa- 
tion — who prey upon the innocent and defenceless. 
Would that they might be gibbeted in chains, like 
the corsair of old, as a warning to the whole pirate 
brood. 



§3 



Old School Days. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

Certain words and phrases, like certain looks and 
tones, have a wonderful pregnancy of meaning and 
extraordinary fertility of association. Such was the 
magic, in the long ago, of "Vacation time." Those 
words, sounded now, unlock the treasure caves of the 
past and like Prospero's wand, compel the spirits of 
earth and air. As I repeat it to myself, the room 
seems to fill with a hundred strange creations and its 
windows open out upon a succession of vivid land- 
scapes ; the spirits, as of another world, troop in upon 
memory; the bloom of terraced gardens, which bask 
in glorious sunshine ; serene heights, steeped in 
eternal summer ; Sylvan bowers of enchantment ; 
Arcadian landscapes and woodland glades, which ring 
with the music of nature ; happy valleys, where the 
violet and wild rose are as deathless as the songs 
which celebrate them. All of these, and more, pass 
swiftly before the inner vision as we contemplate the 
cjuondam joys of "Vacation time." There is the old 
creek, with its tiny pools enlivened with sun perch, 
and its banks garlanded with reeds and rushes. There 
arc the tireless notes of the thrush and bobolink, 

84 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

mingled with the crooning of the dove, or the notes 
of the quail. There is the old swimming pool, where 
the tireless hours of pleasure by day have been suc- 
ceeded by sleepless hours of blistered and sunburnt 
backs. Again we see the brambles and sage fields, 
through which we chased the rabbits, and the bits 
of woodland where we hunted the chipmunk and the 
squirrel. Here is the grove of giant oaks, beneath the 
shade of which the picnics were held, and there the 
little embowered retreat, where we whispered first 
"the old sweet story." 

It is only given to the chosen few to enjoy idleness, 
pure and simple, but the boy can do it. His is a busy 
idleness, in which he may strain his energies to avoid 
doing any sort of work. His vacation is considered 
a license, to follow his own sweet will, and to sur- 
feit himself with what he calls a holiday. Whether 
following any of his multifold plans for riding, 
walking, sitting or sleeping; whether hunting, fish- 
ing, roving, or boating; whether berrying, nutting, 
bathing or trysting: — he wants to do it in his own 
way, without interference or suggestion. He has an 
ambition to be architect of his own pleasures. He 
is a natural enemy of the old adage about early rising. 
He believes, with Charles Lamb, that this is an egre- 
gious fallacy and that it is responsible for a great deal 
of folly. 

For this same reason the boy is not always on good 
terms with the cock, who has a disagreeable habit of 
announcing the dawn. 

85 



Old School Days. 

Among the ordinary pastimes of the vacation period, 
is that of gathering berries. It is a joy to the boy, 
that never grows old. Whatever changes the intel- 
lectual expansion of the ages may bring about in 
youth, the childhood of the twentieth century re- 
mains, in all essentials, the childhood of the centuries 
preceding it — just as buoyant and adventurous, as 
simple and as sportive. The bramble is as dear to the 
children now as it was to those of our colonial ances- 
tors. The broad bosom of nature yields this luscious 
berry unstintedly, and to enjoy it wisely, you must, 
like the children, feast upon it when freshly gathered, 
with the cool dews of morning still clinging to it. 

The berrying season is simultaneous, also with the 
hunt for huckleberries, haws and muscadines. In 
gathering the latter, some climbing and dexterity are 
called into play, and this lends an additional zest 
to the sport, as the boy is a "show off," when he has 
special opportunity to display agility and courage. I 
can readily recall how one of my schoolmates once 
broke up a delightful picnic excursion by such a dis- 
play. He had climbed high into the tree, which was 
interlaced with muscadine vines, to bring down a large 
tempting cluster of the fruit, within reach of the 
group of boys and girls below. He made a long leap, 
grasped the vines, and brought them within four or five 
feet of the ground, and left liimself there, swinging in 
mid air. To aid him in coming to the earth some of 
the crowd caught hold of his pantaloons, and draw- 
ing down upon them, his suspenders broke and — well, 

86 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

there was a quick dispersion of the picnic. Our oblig- 
ing young friend was not seen for some weeks, and 
to the present day he doesn't appreciate any repetition 
of the incident. 

This is also the season when the young idea re- 
ceives first lessons in natural history, by personal con- 
tact with the birds, reptiles and insects, being a natural, 
uncompromising enemy to nearly all of the last two 
classes. He both fears and hates the spider, and 
for no well defined reason. There is little doubt that 
the ancient nursery rhyme about the spider and the 
fly, has much to do with this disfavor and antipathy. 
The fly is shown to be so unsuspecting a member of 
the insect fraternity, and the spider is so cunning 
a creature, that, at once, the popular verdict is ren- 
dered against him. In destroying these pestilential 
insects, the spider is a friend to humanity. Besides, 
it only obeys nature's laws in utilizing the means 
wherewith it has been provided for the capture of 
the flies. 

The' song of the bullfrog is a pleasing operetta 
to the young naturalist. There is something cour- 
ageous — even inspiring — in his deep base tones, 
which we are taught to believe is an expression of 
joy. The bullfrog always essays his role after there 
has been an overture by the mosquitoes and katy- 
dids. It is only the male frog that sings and it is 
only to a select audience from his harem. The 
notes of the bullfrog are said to closely approximate 



87 



Old School Days. 

to the Yale college yell, according to a distinguished 
French savant. 

The snake, like the spider, is one of the special 
aversions of boyhood. In fact, the general disgust 
and fear with which the snake is universally re- 
garded, exposes him to constant persecution, and per- 
haps no other reptile or animal in creation is so re- 
lentlessly sacrificed by him. He is hunted and killed 
by thousands every year, under the false idea that 
all are mean and venomous. Nevertheless snakes, 
as well as lizards and toads, are friends of the farmer, 
being the most formidable foes of leaf-destroying 
insects, as well as the small rodents, moles and worms 
that often play havoc with the early crops. 

The toad, one of the most harmless of all God's 
creatures, is yearly slaughtered in pure, brutal sport. 
Being sluggish in its movements, it falls an easy vic- 
tim, and is only saved from total extermination by 
being nocturnal in its habits. The fabled jewel in 
its head offered no incentive to its destruction. It is 
valuable in the agricultural districts as a destroyer of 
many varieties of pestiferous insects. 

The chameleon also performs a similar office. 
He approaches the insect perched upon a twig, with 
an almost inperceptible slowness of action, until at the 
distance of a few inches, he shoots out his long slimy 
tongue and rarely fails to secure his victim. He thus 
contributes very materially and essentially in the re- 
duction of the insect population. 

But of all the cruel and destructive propensities 
88 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

of the boy that can be in no way justified is the yearly 
wanton slaughter of small birds. They are killed 
with guns, slings, and catapults, as well as by snares, 
traps and dead-falls, while the mother bird is driven 
from the nest and the eggs are destroyed. These 
same little birds are not only harmless, but court 
man's friendship by nesting near his dwelling and 
greeting him with a song, being also his self-appointed 
protectors. They affect vegetation directly by sowing 
seeds and consuming them; by destroying injurious 
insects, and, in some cases are beneficial to vegetable 
life. Hence, when we kill a seed-sowing bird we 
check the dissemination of a plant, and when we kill 
a bird which digests the seeds it swallows, we pro- 
mote the increase of vegetation, possibly noxious. 

There are many birds whose habitat is the open 
plain, and the treeless marshes and moors. Thus 
exposed to their enemies, the hawks, they could not 
maintain an existence, without special means of es- 
cape or concealment. Nature, therefore, comes to 
their assistance and supplies them sombre and decep- 
tive colorings, as is observed in wrens, thrushes, quail 
and snipe. These birds, whose habitat is the forest, 
contrary to the general idea, are seldom seen in its 
deepest recesses, but along the border, where their 
insect prey are most accessible. A peculiarity, often 
noted in our childhood, was the almost universal law 
of nature which give the most startling and gaudiest 
plumage to the male bird. This is perhaps a most wise 
and beneficent provision, as the drab colors and som- 

89 



Old School Days. 

bre coating of the female, partly secure her im- 
munity from molestation during the generative season. 

We cannot avoid repeating here that the passion 
of bo34iood for the ruthless and indiscriminate 
destruction of the birds, furnishes a cruel record, 
which is among the most discreditable pages of 
juvenile life. It is no worse, however, than the 
ravages committed by their elders, who are responsi- 
ble for the almost total extinction of the buffalo, 
chamois, moose, tapir, walrus and sea-cow, as well as 
many gaudy phu-naged birds. 

Every boy is familiar with the large family of 
beetles, embracing the pinch-bug, jack-snapper, 
l)lack-runners, devil's horse, June-bugs, locusts, fire- 
flies, etc. They are part of the daily life of childhood, 
and have many times engaged their undivided, if not 
loving attention. The vicious and voracious wolf- 
beetle, which burrows in the ground, is so swift and 
active in movement that they capture their prey with 
facility, usually caterpillars and tree-destroying in- 
sects. The devil's horse, a most repulsive creature, 
is afraid of nothing and will attack a man's legs and 
feet if he draws near. The jack-snapper has that 
power of tenacity of life, that it will bite after the 
-lead has been severed from the body. The locust or 
cicada, whose loud shrill note can be heard for a mile, 
is one of the plagues of agriculture in his migratory 
visits. He is regarded as a palatable morsel by the 
Chinese in different parts of the country. 

The cockroach has ever been a nuisance, with his 
90 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

disagreeable odor and predatory habits. The firefly 
and the glow worm embellish the nights of summer 
with innumerable moving lights, and would seem to 
repeat on earth the brilliancy of the starry vault of 
heaven. There is also the stinging-scorpion, which 
has been immortalized by astronomy to represent 
one of the constellations. He has an acute sting, 
which effuses a venomous liquid that is very painful. 
This is one creature the small boy is justified in 
hunting and destroying. 

These boyish rambles over meadow and field are 
alike healthful and profitable in expanding the mind, 
and listening to and imbibing all the lore of nature. 
Not only in the fields but in the barnyard, this infor- 
mation can be gleaned, as it is where the involuntary 
education of the naturalist begins. 

Over there, on the border of the clover patch, a 
group of consequential hens are holding a reception. 
They have put their heads together and are indulging 
in a sort of sign language. A dandy rooster is 
parading before them, displaying his shape, and, by 
a sort of churling sound is calling Mrs. Dominica 
aside for a brief talk. That wood pigeon, who is de- 
scribing a series of graceful aerial evolutions and 
alighting, with puffing breast, on the old limb near 
another, is simply making love to its mate. That 
flock of guineas that have just mounted the old rail 
fence have missed some of their covey, and are loudly 
calling "come back — come back." That old catbird, 
who continues to say "wot, wot — tway," has a nest 

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Old School Days. 

thereabout and she is resenting your proximity to 
same. "Fido," who has been teasing and snapping 
at that little toad has suddenly desisted and is now 
showing every sign of nausea, because he has a taste 
of the "sweat venom" emitted from the toad's skin. 
And so this study could be pursued indefinitely, even 
down to the ants, wood lice, grubs and larval forms, 
but our space does not admit of any further extension 
of this feature of the subject. The boy has other 
pleasures and diversions to follow. 

At the verdant period of life, which we are now 
recording, the boy at one time or another keeps a 
diary. It is a private record, which he guards as he 
does the precious missives from his sweetheart. A 
diary is supposed to be composed every night, with 
the same regularity as plans are made for the next 
day's sport and recreation. Nothing of consequence 
is supposed to be omitted, and nothing set down in 
malice. Most of these diaries with which I was ac- 
quainted (and I had one myself) were not made up 
for the boy's exclusive perusal, as he always had 
deep hued, loving expressions for his sweetheart, 
which he secretly hoped that she could read by some 
chance, without his knowledge of the fact. There is 

also the record of the marbles lost and won and the 

I, 

prospect of some glorious epidemic closing the school, 
the intense hatred of rivals, the death of animals on 
the farm, the loss of a pocket knife, prospective parties 
and candy pullings and many other inmost secrets, 
which, for the time, were really momentous. 

92 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

Just about this period, too, it may be said that the 
autograph album had its birth in literature. They 
came out in handsome bindings, with some senti- 
mental title in gilt letters on the back, such as "The 
Keepsake," Forget-me-not," "Autumn Leaves," "The 
Bijou," etc. The young people simply revelled in 
them, as affording an opportunity of openly writing 
sweet and loving sentiments which were fully au- 
thorized by fashion. When a young man got hold 
of his best girl's album he sat down to look through 
all the poets and writers of sentiment for something 
appropriate to say. It often required days to ac- 
complish this and, when the album was returned, he 
had poured all the fire of his soul upon one of its pages. 
He had eclipsed anything said by any writer therein 
who had preceded him. This fad for autograph 
albums, with some minor changes, is one that has 
shown great tenacity, as the custom has never yet 
been discontinued. 

Gypsies also contained a strange fascination for 
boys, which probably arose from the old-time custom 
of this race stealing and "mixing" children, as well 
as their ability for stealing horses. But the modern 
gypsy, from a romantic point of view, has fallen, of 
late years, from his high estate ; they have ceased to 
kidnap children of great and rich people to sub- 
stitute for them offspring of their own. This fall- 
ing off in a good old custom has taken from our 
novel lists a time-honored plot, which never failed 
to work like a charm. If a story-teller should now 

93 



Old School Days. 

hint at his hero being "changed at birth," he would 
be overwhelmed with ridicule. "Little Buttercup" 
was the last personage to engage successfully in this 
line of business, and with her, baby-farming be- 
came extinct. 

There has ever been a singular affection, on the part 
of southern children for the old negroes, and es- 
pecially for the old "Black Mammy," who has had as 
much to do with their rearing as mother and father. 
The negro is filled, tod, with superstition, which is 
always an intensely interesting subject to a child. 
The religion of the darkey is also of an austere, if not 
fierce character and to the child mind this possesses 
an absorbing interest. During their religious revivals 
of long ago (as well as at the present time) the serv- 
ices were marked by many exciting scenes, such as 
shouting, holy trances, holy dances and other fierce 
and fervent exhibitions of religious feeling. At such 
times the boys would steal away from home at night 
and spend many hours as interested on-lookers upon 
the strange scenes. 

The negro also is a happy-go-lucky individual, in 
his normal state, easily contented, and wholly oblivious 
of the morrow. He is a disciple of hoecake and 
hominy, and about as near an approach to perfect 
happiness as can be found this side of paradise. No 
matter where he is toiling, or how arduous his task, 
you invariably find him singing at his work. Tf pos- 
sessed of a day's rations, and a plug of tobacco, he 



94 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

apparently would not change places with Croesus 
himself. 

In the old days he was the hero of a most interest- 
ing feature of plantation life — the "corn shuckings." 
Such gatherings were common before the Civil war, 
and furnished a rich fund of amusement to the casual 
sojourner in the country. A great heap of corn in 
the shuck would be piled in the back yard, and on a 
stipulated night the negroes from all surrounding- 
plantations would gather here, in a prize contest, to see 
who would shuck the greatest amount of corn. There 
was usually a liberal flow of whiskey, and often a 
substantial meal was served about the middle of the 
evening. Some good singer was selected to lead all 
the others — often forty or so — who would join in the 
song, which could be distinctly heard for miles away. 
These exercises were sometimes varied with solos, 
quartettes and dancing, to the music of a super- 
annuated banjo — the favorite musical instrument of 
the darkey. Such gatherings were always hilarious 
and exciting, being repeated many times during the 
season, on different plantations. 

A similar gathering was often held in the fall, when 
fresh forests had been felled, and there occurred what 
was knownasa"log-rolling"onthe new ground. These 
occasions were always marked by a tempestuous flow 
of good spirits and formed a glorious era in planta- 
tion life, which has no counterpart in modern times. 

Another feature of that old-time period of boy- 
hood life is now an almost extinct occupation, but 

95 



Old School Days. 

there are still those who can remember the pleasures of 
an old-time "quilting." For the small boy the quilt- 
ing features were a side issue, as it was the specially- 
prepared dinner that possessed the leading charm for 
him. These gatherings were a special feature prior 
to the Civil war time and before the sewing machine 
invaded every home and banished the elaborate quilts 
that were so common in those days, as marvels of fine 
needlework. There is no relic of our grandmother's 
time that can compare with the dainty and handsome 
spreads, which are the precision and perfection of 
careful stitching as well as a wonder of patience 
and skill. 

Out of this epoch comes back the memory of the 
old-fashioned corn bread, made from the antiquated 
skillet and from meal ground in the slow rollers of 
the ante-bellum grist mill. There was no more 
palatable, wholesome, nutritious bread in the world. 
Made properly, eaten hot or cold with milk and butter, 
or without, it is an enemy to dyspepsia, a lasting in- 
vitation to the palate and a joy forever. A similar 
verdict can be rendered in favor of the collard, after 
it has been sweetened and mellowed by the first frost. 
The secret of its proper preparation and boiling is 
almost unknown, except in the South. There is 
nothing more delicious, and any stomach can digest it. 

And what master of the culinary art can vie with 
Black Mammy in the preparation of that toothsome 
dish, "possum and 'taters"? There are those wlio 
may decry the virtue of this rich, juicy and palatable 

96 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

dish, but they are the uninitiated, who would only 
have to taste to bless the inventor. Let those who 
will, continue to make "possum and 'taters" the sub- 
ject of ironical geographical lectures, it has won its 
place, at least, in the heart of the small boy, and for 
all time will be an everlasting joy to Uncle Remus. 

The camp meeting, in its truest glory, belongs to 
the period of thirty years ago. This peculiarly 
American institution has its origin from the gregari- 
ous instinct of the unconventional and emotional fol- 
lowers of John Wesley. One of these great period- 
ical gatherings took place within a few miles of the 
home of my childhood, and was famous in those days 
for the numbers who yearly assembled there from 
adjoining counties, and the intense religious enthu- 
siasm which was awakened. The camp ground was 
located in the deep recesses of the forest, the people 
came and lived in tents, and a vast arbor was con- 
structed in the center as the temple. It was the com- 
bination of the purposes of summer recreation with 
those of mental and spiritual culture, and if the seduc- 
tions of the ilesh and the devil sometimes creep in- 
sidiously into these temples of Nature, we must only 
regard them as due to the casual imperfections of 
human nature. 

But the modern Methodists have become more arti- 
ficial and luxurious in tb.cir tastes, and the camp- 
grounds have lost most of the crude and archaic sim- 
plicity of former days. It is only in the method of 

97 



Old School Days. 

preaching in the open air that there is now any exact 

similarity to the primitive habit. 

The only denomination which has preserved the 
many old-time characteristics of the camp meeting-, 
are the Primitive Baptists, otherwise known as the 
"Hard Shell Baptists." These religionists are most 
rigorous too in their discipline and, in many features, 
approximate to the early Puritans. They were numer- 
ous in the rural districts about our early home, and 
noted for their strict and even fierce piety. Many 
of their precepts could be most profitably emulated 
by other denominations. They are unalterably op- 
posed to every species of extravagance, and com- 
munion bread would be refused to any man, who re- 
fused or failed to pay his debts. They are opposed 
to war under any pretext, and like the Quakers, 
were exempt from participating in our fratricidal 
Civil war. 

We now move on apace, from Summer and Autumn, 
leaving behind the balmy breath of Indian Summer, 
the Equinoxes of September, for the season of holly 
and mistletoe, when vegetation has gone to sleep, 
and the frosty mornings usher in that ever-to-be-re- 
membered era of "hog-killing-time." To the boy, 
whose heart you can reach through his stomach, this 
is an epoch of stupendous importance. When he sees 
the great wooden box, filled with water, being en- 
cased in the earth and a huge fire of logs, upon 
which are being superheated the large gneissoid rocks, 
which are to bring the water, in the box, to a boiling 

93 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

point, he realizes what it means. His dreams turn 
to pork in thirty different languages — the chitterlings, 
cracklings, lights, livers, sausage, souse, and a score 
of other parts and forms that are to be obtained at 
no other period. Though the taste may have under- 
gone a radical change since that time and the aversion 
to pork in all forms be most pronounced, it never- 
theless cannot rob this ancient era of the glorious 
expectations it once awakened. 

Parental injunctions against vulgar or harrowing 
sights, and against many unnamable things, which 
were more or less incomprehensible, always acted as 
a stimulus. They first provoked astonishment, then 
curiosity, and finally, a desire to explore and find out 
just why it is something that shouldn't be seen. It 
was thus with the first judicial execution that took 
place in my native county, in early childhood. The 
scene was awful, and is still harrowing, when re- 
called by memory. 

Though strictly prohibited from attending, the 
sight of the grewsome procession passing, with a 
number of my playmates following, aroused a sttange 
fancy to see the hanging. The unfortunate who was 
to be publicly strangled, sat on his own coffin in the 
wagon, which was flanked on either side by platoons 
of militia. These Vv'ere followed by the executioner, 
deputy sheriffs, preacher, mourners and a heteroge- 
neous crowd of whites and blacks. A vast concourse 
of men, women and children lined the streets, with a 
maudlin curiosity to see the strange and mournful cor- 



Old School Days. 

tege, which was slowly moving to an old field on the 
outskirts of the village, where the gallows had 
been erected. Only a few preliminaries were indulged 
at the scaffold, a pathetic prayer, a weird chant, sup- 
pressed sobbing, and then the trap was sprung. In 
falling the victim's black cap was accidently pulled 
from his face and the ghastly sight which met my 
eyes caused me to run away in horror and terror. 
It hung to me like some loathsome torment — like some 
tenacious and unutterable nightmare and, tQ this day, 
after the lapse of thirty-five years, it rises like a 
Gorgon from the past. 

November and December are months more or less 
discredited, as they are largely characterized by cold, 
chilly rains, fogs, mists, and gloom. And yet, they 
have claims for the boy, who is not so sensitive to 
the variations of weather as his elders. It is the 
time when garnered grain adds new colonies to the 
rodents, and with the terriers and mongrels the boy finds 
endless pleasure in chasing and killing the rats. The 
crispy, frosty mornings are also inviting for rabbit 
hunting, and behind a pack of hunting dogs (some- 
times trained hounds) he rushes over the fields and 
through the swamps with a wild glee known only to 
those of his age. And the delicious "wine saps" 
which still hang in the orchard are a princely feast 
for him when he returns from the chase, braced, ex- 
hilarated and glowing with gracious warmth. There 
is also a barrel of genuine sweet cider, made by ex- 
perts, which he can imbibe to his heart's content, with 

100 



Vacations, Sports and Recreations. 

out any fear of evil results. In fact, the frost and 
chilliness of this season has endless compensations, 
and really warms the enthusiasm of those who love 
activity, and who would gain health and recreation 
afield. 



101 



Old School Days. 



CHAPTER VII. 

flniiitjcrsarics, €ra$, liolidaps, €tc. 

It is sometimes pleasant to realize that every day is 
an anniversary. The world has been in existence so 
long that no day passes over our heads that does not 
record the completion of a year more or less im- 
portant to somebody, somewhere. Now it is a 
mighty nation, celebrating its independence, the jubilee 
of a reign, the birth of a great statesman, or mourn- 
ing over a deceased president ; now, it is an humble 
and obscure individual, rejoicing or lamenting over 
memories to which the exact round of a life gives 
a significant vividness. Between these two high and 
low extremes, every class of humanity is almost 
hourly touched by those recollections of the past, 
which are brought conspicuously to the mind by the 
lapse of twelve months. And so we go on annually, 
month to month, and day to day, all and every one 
of them bringing back a well-defined span of time, 
to be again renewed and carried on until yet another 
year is completed 

By the young, these recurrent dates are looked for- 
ward to eagerly, and on them they make a deep im- 
pression, more especially because they are generally 

102 



Anniversaries, Eras, Holidays, Etc. 

signalized by a cessation of study or labor. The 
time comes a little later (and only too soon) when 
we get startled by the rapidity with which we find 
such anniversaries turning up and are made a little 
bit uneasy by the realization that we are growing 
older and older. It is then that the repetition of 
these dates becomes a little tiresome, and we cease to 
look forward to them with any pleasurable sensations, 
and finally disregard them, to such an extent that 
they are almost forgotten. At least, we will try to 
forget them, and almost resent any reminder of the 
fact as unnecessary and obtrusive. 

But, with the boy, it is altogether different, as he 
is always looking forward and the more years he can 
place behind him, the more it rejoices his heart. It 
is little wonder, therefore, that the birthdays of the 
young, with all they include, are conspicuous and 
paramount among anniversaries. After our own natal 
day has been celebrated, the next in importance is 
that of a brother, sister, parent or friend, each carry- 
ing with it its due observance and relative amount of 
pleasure, presents and fun. 

The year opens with an anniversary, the birth of 
the New Year. Cynics may make light of it, and 
remind us that every day is the beginning of another 
year, and treat us with the truism that all days are 
alike, but we remain convinced that it is not so — that 
tradition and association have invested, with a special 
and almost pathetic interest, the New Year's day of 
the calendar. Nature herself seems to mark it out 

103 



Old School Days. 

as a kind of turning point in her increasing activity, 
to distinguish it as a boundary between two periods 
of obviously distinct character. The boy welcomes it, 
not only as one of his jewelled holidays, but for all 
of its annual concomitants, such as big dinners, pres- 
ents, good cheer and recreations. And with elevated 
soul, softened heart and a full stomach, he looks upon 
the day as one of the many benedictions the Creator 
has showered upon us. 

And tlicre is St. Valentine's day, with all of its 
sweet associations as well as its unnumbered and 
hallowed memories. What a stir of expectancy flut- 
tered in thousands of young hearts when that con- 
secrated morning dawned. How restlessly and im- 
patiently we waited for the village postofifice to open, 
and how we almost crawded over each other in anx- 
iety at the delivery window. The precious missives 
sometimes contained i)rinted verses, of appropriate 
sentiment, but to these were often appended some 
more convincing terms of endearment, in the timid 
scrawl of the sender. They were always a source of 
infinite joy, and it is almost lanientable that the lovely 
traditions of the festival of St. Valentine have 
dwinrlled into burlesque and caricatures. All sorts 
of things imaginable and unimaginable now pass 
through the mails as valentines. Newly married 
couples are immdated with gentle reminders of squall- 
ing babies; bachelors have also appropriate reminders, 
while men who drink, or arc addicted to staying out 
at nights, are mercilessly p*^Hed with all sorts of 

104 



Anniversaries, Eras, Holidays, Etc. 

caricatures and doggerel verses. In fact, the desecra- 
tion of the day has become such a burlesque that the 
character of a large mass of the valentines is ex- 
tremely odious and at times revolting. 

Another event of importance to the juvenile occurs 
simultaneously with St. Valentine, and that is the ap- 
pearance of the prophetic ground hog. Some con- 
troversy has always prevailed as to the exact time 
when this interesting little creature awakes from his 
winter siesta and takes a peep at the outside world. 
Many contend that this first appearance is made on 
Candlemas day, but those who are experts in the 
color of the goose bone and its hardiness, as well as 
the disciples of "gander pulling" place the date unmis- 
takably on February 14th, corresponding with the 
festival of St. Valentine. On this day the ground 
hog rises from his long hibernation, stretches his 
limbs, creeps to his front door cautiously and looks 
searchingly around to ascertain if he can see his own 
shadow. If he should see it he goes back to sleep 
and comes out again in exactly one month. But if 
he fails to see his shadow, instinct tells him that the 
winter is over, and he remains above ground and 
busies himself, as do many other people on St. Valen- 
tine's, in trying to find a mate and set up housekeep- 
ing during the summer. There are some mongrel 
ground hogs who would desecrate the tradition of 
their forefathers by coming out on February 2d, l)Ut 
they do not belong to the upper crust of groimd hog 
society. 

105 



Old School Days. 

A moment's thought will explain the instinct why he 
does not remain out if he can see his own shadow. 
He knows the sun must be shining, and this argues 
that light weather has come out prematurely, and 
will probably be followed by storms and blizzards. 
But if "arctomy's monax" cannot see his shadow, he 
knows that the next day and those which follow, will 
be light, and he will be justified in marrying on the 
Saint's day and going to housekeeping. 

There is a singular coincidence in the second ap- 
pearance of the ground hog, if he goes back to sleep, 
as he makes no account of the shortness of February, 
but reappears on March 17th, known all over the 
world as St. Patrick's day. The sons of Erin revere 
the memory of this blessed saint, for his noble efifort 
in reclaiming their forefathers from paganism, as well as 
banishing snakes from Ireland, and his decree that the 
shamrock would grow to perfection in the Emerald Isle, 
and on no other spot on earth. His natal day is 
unknown, but the date of his advent in Ireland is 
recognized by religious and civic demonstrations in 
every part of the world, by the Celtic race. "The 
wearing of the green" is the badge and song of this 
occasion, as well as the symbolic harp, which "Once 
through Tara's halls, its soul of music shed." 

The custom of keeping April ist as "All Fool's 
day," as a day set aside for all kinds of practical jokes, 
is a very old one, and the custom is very nearly imi- 
versal, as all nations have such a day, which is kept 
in very much the same n^nnner. It is a great occa- 

106 



Anniversaries, Eras, Holidays, Etc. 

sion for the juveniles to indulge their favorite pro- 
clivity for practical jokes, in which they are often 
joined by their elders. One of the favorite jests is 
to send some one upon an errand, which no one but a 
fool would undertake ; as for instance, to get a "set 
of hen teeth," or "a quart of pigeon milk," or to buy 
"The story of Adam's grandfather." This is varied 
sometimes by more serious joking in sending a man 
home hurriedly to see a sick family, or calling the 
doctor hastily (nowadays by telephone) to go to some 
unknown number. Under such circumstances it seems 
legitimate to laugh, especially when quiet and inoffen- 
sive men are duped to go upon such silly errands. 
The observance of the day is possibly the survival 
of some old heathen custom, for that is the origin of 
nearly all of our old customs, particularly such as 
may be common to all countries. 

Along with numerous church festivals, which occur 
during the month of April, the 26th of the month is 
set aside as Confederate Memorial Day, in several of 
the Southern states. At this time all school exer- 
cises are suspended and the whole village population 
gather at the graveyard to strew the graves with 
flowers and hold appropriate exercises, commemora- 
tive of the deeds of valor performed by the dead. 

But the greatest of festivals, so far as childhood is 
concerned, is "May Day." It is one of the oldest 
eras in the history of the world, dating back among 
the mythic epochs of human career. It has its origin 
from that time when men personified the powers of 

107 



Old School Days. 

nature and called them gods and goddesses. All of 
the earliest records speak of the spring festival, 
when the earth puts on her green mantle, with its 
floral spangles of every hue. It is the month of 
flowers and birds — the month of dewy freshness, of 
genial, unresting youth and of expanding beauty. 
What glorious dreams are recalled by those unalloyed 
pleasures, associated with strawberry festivals, the 
May pole dances and the crowning of the Queen of 
May. It is one of the supreme epochs of child life, 
and has such vitality, after all the changes of genera- 
tions and ages, that it never grows old. 

Easter is another festival, though of a religious 
character, which has its origin from the Resurrection. 
Like St. Valentine's and New Year's, it has certain 
siginificant observances among children, which renders 
it memorable, and a time to which they look forward 
with most pleasurable anticipations. Easter eggs, of 
beautiful hues, are prepared for the smaller children, 
while the older ones indulge their fancies for hand- 
some Easter cards, with appropriate poetical inscrip- 
tions. Among the loveliest Easter gifts are gorgeous 
floral designs of roses and lilies, and other spring 
blossoms suitable to the spirit of the hour. The 
Easter gift, unlike that of Christmas, has not degen- 
erated into such a perfunctory and empty-hearted 
practice, but the dainty and original fancies displayed 
seem to have the inspiration of genuine affection. 

The festivals of the Annunciation of the Virgin 
(Lady Day) and that of the Feast of the Nativity 



Anniversaries, Eras, Holidays, Etc. 

of John the Baptist (June 24th) are church days 
strictly observed in England, but seldom celebrated 
in this country. The same may be said of St. 
Swithin's, about which there is a superstition that if 
rain fell on this day (July 15th) it would continue for 
forty days. 

But the day of days for celebrating, in the old times, 
was Independence Day — July 4th. This always pre- 
sented to young America a license and opportunity 
for noisy and boisterous fun, not afforded upon any 
other anniversary of the year. Outside of his lusty 
lungs, his weapons of noise were Chinese firecrackers, 
miniature torpedoes, toy pistols and cannon, besides 
many other improvised and home-made designs and 
devices, with which to banish all peace and create 
pandemonium. 

One of these consisted in filling a bottle with blast- 
ing powder, attaching a fuse and burying it on some 
prominent hill top, and when the unsuspecting neigh- 
borhood was least aware, touching off the mini- 
mized volcano, with its deafening report. A cruel 
practice was to catch some confiding, unwary country 
cur and attach a pack of firecrackers to its tail and 
set them off. It is doubtful if any dog ever develops 
such wonderful speed as upon these occasions, since 
he can cover the (fistance to his rural home, ten miles 
away, in a space of time that has given rise to the 
expression of "burning the wind." 

The period of school closing, exhibitions and 
commencements, is generally ushered in with 

109 



Old School Days. 

the summer solstice, and is fraught with deathless 
interest to the young, as it signalizes the approach 
of that time of restful indolence, the summer 
vacation. In these days, the air is filled with ora- 
tory and compositions, when the youthful optimists, 
with most assuring confidence, easily dispose of 
problems which have troubled the wise men of all 
ages. Optimism is necessarily one of the traits 
of. youth, as it is the time when the pulse beats strong, 
and the eye does not yet look far beyond the surface. 
Friendships are still unmarred by blighting selfish- 
ness and all the world still retains its brightest hues. 
In the opinion of the average boy, schools were in- 
vented merely as a kind of strait-jacket, and he is 
convinced that he will not have occasion to make use 
of the numerous things he must learn. With the 
girls, commencement day is also connected with gifts 
of dresses and flowers, and draw so many flattering 
remarks from friends as to inspire the wish that it 
might last forever. 

The summer vacation usually encompasses the 
period known as "Dog Days," from the supposed in- 
fluence of that heated period upon these animals, 
causing them occasionally to develop symptoms of 
madness. There is no terror of childhood greater 
than that of the appearance of a stipposed mad dog. 
It is one of the ogres of the imagination, which per- 
petuates among boys some of the most frightful stories 
of the doings of these animals, under the influence of 
rabies, and the sufferings of those who have been 

no 



Anniversaries, Eras, Holidays, Etc. 

bitten. The appearance of a clog upon the street 
foaming at the mouth, because of inabihty to swallow- 
its saliva, was always the signal for general scamper- 
ing, as wild and precipitate as any stampede that ever 
characterized a western herd. It has been established 
scientifically that neither climate nor heat has any- 
thing to do with hydrophobia, as it is as common in 
winter as in summer, while the fear of water is a 
pure myth. 

It has been the custom for a long period of time 
for the President to appoint a certain day — generally 
the last Thursday in November — for Thanksgiving 
for all and special beneficences of the Creator. In the 
old days, as in modern years, this was observed by 
services and prayers in the churches, succeeded by 
an extensive and specially prepared dinner in every 
home, where roast turkey and cranberry sauce con- 
stituted the leading, if not symbolic, course of the 
meal. In the country districts there was also a small 
roast pig, served whole, trimmed with spinach, and 
holding a red apple in its mouth. It is useless to add 
that this was an occasion for the delectation of boy- 
hood, as are all occasions where plenty of something 
good to eat is a prominent feature. 

A very pretty custom has come down to us from 
the Scotch traditions and folk-lore in "All Hallow 
Eve," or, as it is anglicized into "Halloween." In the 
church calendar, it is known as "All Saints' Day," 
and occurs on November ist. Among young people 
the observance is confined to the preceding evening, 

111 



Old School Days. 

or Hallow Eve, and it is marked by many customs 
that have their origin in the remotest periods. The 
germ of the old halloween fancy is that you will on 
that night, through some means, ascertain your future 
wife or husband. Even the features can be deter- 
mined, by invoking certain charms — looking into the 
burning grate, casting an apple peel over the right 
shoulder, or watching for a mystic face reflected over 
the shoulder in the pool. In fact the fancies are in- 
numerable that are indulged on Halloween, nearly 
every country and section having different customs 
of observance. 

But the greatest anniversary of the year, and the 
one which is so far reaching as to find an echo in 
every part of the world, is Christmas. It is the 
season of holly and mistletoe, which are inseparable 
from the advent of Yule. 

A beautiful Spanish legend tells us that during the 
night of the Nativity, there was no darkness in Spain, 
as a glorious, luminous cloud, bright as the sun, 
shone over the exultant land. It is thus that child 
life is lighted up by each resurrection of this event, 
with all of its glorious promise of joys and happiness. 
It is then that the heart seems to open its most gen- 
erous impulses and to shower its gifts upon those 
bound to it by ties of love and friendship. The in- 
signicant mementoes of even the very poor are treas- 
ures, and seem to have a broader significance at this 
time. And there is Santa Claus, the Christmas tree, 
the presents, the flowers, the fireworks, the grand 

112 



Anniversaries, i::ras, Holidays, Etc. 

dinners, and all the multiform accompaniments of 
this season of unalloyed happiness. It is scarcely 
faded from view before the young hearts begin their 
longing for its next return. It is ever thus to the 
young, to whom the years are so many caskets of 
jewels and precious stones, while to the old, they are 
the beads of Time's rosary, which drop from our fin- 
gers even while we count them. 

Of other events which occur annually, but at no 
fixed time, might be mentioned candy-pullings, pound- 
parties, eclipses, movable church feasts, marriages, 
deaths and funerals. Each of them possesses an in- 
terest of more or less importance in boy life, as his 
personality, in some shape or form, is almost essen- 
tially a part of every important event of the world. 

If there is an eclipse, he is first on the scene with 
a smoked glass to take a view of it, while he is 
actually a symbol in some of the church feasts. 

At the marriage feasts^, he sometimes "gives the 
bride away," in a figurative sense, while no one is so 
capable of doing justice to the bridal supper as our 
ever-present "Angel of the House." 

At the death bed he is called to receive the last 
parental blessing, and at the grave he is one of the 
most pathetic features of the orphaned family. 

There are still other miscellaneous events of each 
year which play some part in childhood, and which 
also have fixed dates, but these will be treated in 
another part of this work. 



U3 



Old School Days. 
CHAPTER VIII. 

OtDer Concomitants of BopDood. 

On the very threshold of this new and advanced 
era of boyhood, I propose to take the side of the boy, 
in an assauh upon one of the proverbial heirlooms 
and platitudes, consecrated in cop)^ books, as "Per- 
severance overcomes every difficulty." We have lived 
long enough under the tyranny of this alleged truism, 
and it is time for the crushed worm to turn and as- 
sert itself. To be sure, it is never an easy task to 
strike from the tortured limbs the fetters of tradition, 
and the shackles of association, but this is an age which 
makes short work with old creeds, cults and falla- 
cies, when emancipation applies with proper creden- 
tials. By the despotism of such phrases and prov- 
erbs we were pelted mercilessly in youth. They not 
only glared at us from copy books, but grinned men- 
acingly in the almanac. The grim phantom haunted 
us in compositions, while it cropped up in the Latin 
grammer, "Perseverantia Omnia Vincit," and if a 
silver medal came at Christmas, this delusive legend 
was engraved on the back of it. Our elders gravely 
quoted it when giving us advice, and great names 
were trotted out, who had become Croesuses through 
acting upon this adage. 

114 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

Gradually it dawned upon every young mind that 
there was a fallacy somewhere — that the proverb and 
the result did not co-ordinate. In the first place, our 
worthy mentors, it was not to be doubted, had stren- 
uously cultivated the habit they so emphatically recom- 
mended — and yet perseverance had not showered 
upon them the "Fat of the Land," nor thrust their 
heads into tiaras. And if the maxim failed in their 
case, why might it not fail in ours? Then again, we 
read that a great many persons had devoted a life- 
time of ardous effort in various things, and yet had 
persevered themselves into nothing better than pre- 
mature graves and lunatic asylums — so that the diffi- 
culties had not been overcome, but had rather over- 
come the unfortunates themselves. We felt inclined 
to shed a tear over their tombs, apprehending that a 
similar fate would surely be ours if we tried our 
hands at inventing, creating, or other great under- 
takings, with nothing better than perseverance to back 
us up. Speaking for myself, I feel bound to say 
that these sad conclusions of our boyhood have been 
confirmed by the experience of later years. I do not be- 
lieve one whit in this proverbial philosophy of our 
ancestors — at least this specimen of it. To believe 
some of our moralists and writers for the young, one 
\vould suppose that perseverance was the "open se- 
same " which unlocks every Ali Baba cave — the magic 
carpet, which whisks its owner up to shining heights 
and airy palaces. It is all a delusion. Pluck may 
do a good deal, patience more and brains more than 

115 



Old School Days. 

either, or both, but perseverance — pshaw ! There 
never was a more idiotic story, out of a Christmas 
annual, than that of Robert Bruce and the spider, and 
yet this is a favorite ilkistration with our moral phi- 
losophers. "Try, Try Again," is an apt alliterative 
phrase, but the chances are that what a man cannot 
do at first, he will not do at the second, and time is 
too valviable a commodity to be expended in endeavors 
to attain the unattainable. 

And while engaged in this assault upon these an- 
cient adages, there was another that was preached to 
us in boyhood, which is not fully verified in the ordi- 
nary world. We were always taught that "civility 
costs nothing," and would prove a most practical 
virtue in our contact with the world. There is reason 
to cjuestion this alleged axiom. It has, no doubt, been 
of great advantage to some people — to Sir Walter 
Raleigh, for instance — and to the gentleman who 
gave up his seat in church to the old lady unknown, 
who made him her heir in consequence. Raleigh 
could ])robably never wear his cloak again, and though 
many people may be willing to give us their seats 
in church and go away, if this polite person had to 
stand for the rest of the service he could not have liked 
it. Sometimes civility costs a great deal ; it may 
introduce you to a pickpocket, or what is worse, and 
what has frequently happened to us, introduce you 
to the most audacious bores. Furthermore, it may 
compel you to recop;nize somebody whom someone 
else knows to be questionable, or it may innocently 

116 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

lead to your being blackmailed for the balance of 
your life. Still, there may be a happy medium some- 
where, in this contact with strangers, which can re- 
deem the old adage and save civility from such con- 
sequences. 

There is still another class of these would-be phi- 
losophers, whom, for the want of a better name, we 
will call Anti-Everythingarians. They are in con- 
stant evidence in the outside world, but we only ad- 
dress them, at this time, in-so-far as they affect boy- 
hood, with their abstruse theories and prohibitions. 
These Anti-Everythingarians turn the whole science 
of dietetics topsy-turvy and find those hideous look- 
ing germs in all that we eat and drink, while they 
people the air we breathe with deadly sporae, which 
assault the vitals, as soon as they are drawn into the 
lungs. They would banish stoves from the house, as 
generating death-dealing gases, and leave all win- 
dows open, in winter, to kill off the rapidly-breeding 
infusoria. They find frightful results in spinal-cur- 
vature from bicycles, while base ball and foot ball 
are interdicted as being an unerring return to savag- 
ery. They warn people against assembling in public 
halls, on account of impure air ; they oppose all sys- 
tems of education, find disease in kissing, death in 
smoking, immorality in dancing and the world in 
general going, at a rapid pace, to the "demnition bow- 
wows." Almost every morning there is something 
added to their "Index Prohibitorium," and with 
breathless anticipation we await each new edict to find 

in 



Old School Days. 

that some common, everyday thing has been 
slaughtering humanity for the last four thousand 
years. 

Now, boys don't believe one per cent, of what these 
humbugs announce, but their elders do, and the boy 
is made to suffer, while he inwardly prays for some 
dire calamity to sweep away this colony of cranks 
who are now feasting on the world's credulity. In 
olden times, we were afflicted with witch-burning 
Puritanism, which really had some backbone, but now 
we have an invertebrate asceticism, inspired solely by 
egotism and the love of notoriety, whose sole object 
seems to be the diminution of human enjoyment. 

There is a most singular similarity in the habits, 
aims, purposes and ambitions of boyhood, which gives 
force to the idea that our moral and physical pro- 
clivities come by heredity. Smoking is among the 
first habits contracted by a boy after he reaches 
twelve or thirteen years of age, and you will be sur- 
prised, upon investigation, to find that the father of 
ninety per cent, of such boys also smokes. It is not 
an easy habit to acquire, as the novitiate is subjected 
to frequent spells of nausea before he finally con- 
quers the weed. Every boy could give some interest- 
ing experiences of his first combat with a cigar, and 
though the stomach invariably revolts, at the out- 
set, he is persistent, and rarely leaves off after once 
making a beginning. Tobacco, like religion, has had 
its persecutions, since all the anathemas of the dec- 
alogue have been hurled against it. In the early 

118 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

part of the seventeenth century a Turk was conducted 
through the streets of Constantinople, mounted back- 
ward, on an ass, with a tobacco pipe driven through 
the cartilage of his nose, for the crime of smoking. 
And yet, in the same century, it was the custom in 
England for children to take a pipe of tobacco to 
school, as it was supposed to stand them in lieu of 
breakfast. At the usual hour they laid aside their 
books and took up the pipe, the master smoking 
with them and showing them how to wield the pipe 
gracefully. To this day, little Dutch boys, five and 
seven years old, use the pipe. The small boy smok- 
ing cigarettes belongs to a recent period, and this 
method of smoking is considered deleterious. Some 
years ago a Boston boarding house advertised: 

"Wanted : — Four Christian young men, 
who neither chew, smoke, spit nor swear." 

But it was certainly a moral impossibility to find 
such a wonderful combination. If the applicant did 
not chew, he smoked ; and if he did not spit, he swore ; 
and if he did not swear, he "chawed" ; and if he did 
not chew, spit nor swear, he was no Christian, and 
therefore would not fill the bill. 

The use of slang begins in boyhood, and though the 
vocabulary was not so extended thirty-five or forty 
years ago, there was enough in use, at that time, to 
almost form a dialect by itself. No doubt the Amer- 
ican neologist owes much to Indian associations, as 

119 



Old School Days. 

well as new habits in a new land, but a very large 
portion of the reputed Americanisms originated in 
the mother country of England. Even the peculiar 
drawl of the Yankee was brought over in the May- 
flower from North England, where the same method 
of speech prevails to this day. Still, there are a 
multitude of slang terms and phrases which are in- 
digenous and have sprung up to supply the ever-in- 
creasing demand for variety. Though it has tainted 
the purity of the language, many of these words 
have become indispensable and are now sanctioned by 
the best usage. Some slang words, too, which were 
in general use, four decades ago, are now seldom 
heard. 

Such words as "abscjuatulate," "shinplaster," 
"oodles," "galluses," "shebang," "scalawag," "lam- 
bast," "spondulix," and many others, which did much 
service in their day, are now seldom heard. Play- 
ing marbles in those days were designated "allies." 
"sweeps," "fates," and "agates," and to "get shet," of 
your "taw," was an indication you were "broke," 
in playing "winnunce." The different marble games 
were "hull," "sweepstakes," "ring," "line," "plump," 
and "knucks," some of which still survive, while others 
are now obsolete. There are many other slang words 
which ought to die, as they are worthless to the lan- 
guage, but many of them somehow show great te- 
nacity of life. "Cissy-boys," were those gawky louts, 
who were not only cowards, but would blubber at 
the slightest provocation. Another term for them was 

120 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

"Cry-babies," both of which were synonymous with 
the EngHsh "Wilhe-boys." In those days, for an out- 
sider to pass by the school and yell out "school- 
butter," was construed as a gross insult, and severe 
punishments were sometimes meted out to such an 
offender. Slang words applied to obscene and vulgar 
uses, were perhaps more numerous than in any other 
department. With slang, as with other words, there 
is a perpetual war for existence, and it is the "sur- 
vival of the fittest." 

There is a proneness on the part of the boy, at 
times, to magnify insignificant things and he will often 
clothe the most ordinary affairs with the grossest ex- 
aggeration. With him the merest pin-prick expands 
into a wound "as wide as a church door." Some petty 
vexation ruffles his self-esteem, such as a "tiff" with 
his sweetheart, and he proceeds to nurse it and brood 
over it — to aggravate and irritate it until his mere pin- 
prick becomes a permanent sore. This is not an un- 
common trait of boyhood, and though far from being 
universal, is all the more to be deplored, as it is the 
beginning of much trouble in after life. Such little 
worries seem to wear out the energies of the youth- 
ful soul. It is, in this way, that cynics and satirists 
are made, and selfish pseudo-philosophers, who are 
always railing at the life which is much too large and 
beautiful for them to understand. Many times, too, 
a boy's small cares will arise from self-consciousness, 
envies and covetousness, which unfortunate traits are 
often developed early in life, and unless checked, go 

121 



Old School Days. 

on doing their damage for the balance of his days. It 
is sad to see youth in such bondage, for here again 
comes in the question of hereditary traits — a thrall- 
dom from which it seems hard to escape. 

Regarding heredity, there seems often to be an 
anomaly in the inheritance of physical and moral traits, 
while there will be but a feeble reproduction of in- 
tellectual traits, on one hand, or a brilliant and start- 
ling intellectual creation, that surpasses all ancestral 
progenitors, on the other hand. In that group of 
boys, playing together over there, with eyes brimful 
of joy, and hearts playing upon their faces — like sun- 
shine upon clear waters — you observe the blossoms 
of the future — the roses and the thorns — unselfish 
statesmen and heartless anarchist ; the steadfast and 
the weak; judge and criminal — murderer and execu- 
tioner. The silent forces of heredity are at work in 
each little breast — "chips from the old block" — the frui- 
tion of a strain of blood crossing its span of life. 
Children are the elements of the hereafter made visi- 
ble. Corrupted, they are fountains of bitterness for 
ages. What children are, neighborhoods are ; what 
neighborhoods are, communities are — states, empires, 
worlds. You can study the future with a spirit of 
prophecy through these same young creatures. Some 
of them are warm, generous, docile and confiding — ■ 
the future hope of the world. Others are crafty, 
mean, indomitable as the young of wild beasts, as well 
as treacherous and cruel, the fuiurc malcontents, 
marplots and anarchists. The philosophers have been 

122 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

struggling with the question of design in liature ever 
since the days of Aristotle. But she holds and guards 
her secret, and the honest truth is forced upon us, 
that it is impossible to discern a moral end in nature 
and her laws of heredity, without recourse to religion. 
She goes on producing and reproducing types, that 
simply perpetuate evil and malevolence, and instead 
of our trying to put ourselves in harmon}^ with her 
designs, it were better to combat them with the most 
courageous resistance we can command. 

The pride of ancestry early possesses the boy. and 
he becomes a great stickler for any and everything 
connected with his family and relations. He has not 
sufficiently studied his genealogical table, like a cer- 
tain Welsh family, which could establish an unbroken 
line from Noah, but he has been told enough at 
home, about his ancestors, to know they were "blue- 
blood," even if no coat-of-arms has been preserved 
among the family heirlooms. It is a source of greater 
pride to the boy if his father was ennobled and en- 
rolled among those immortals who first cleared 
away the virgin forests of his native county and is 
now a "prominent citizen." The distinction, in a small 
town, falls to the lot of the one whose keen business 
tactics has enabled him to accumulate a competence. 
He is simply great because those around him are small, 
while his progeny become the leaders in all that per- 
tains to social life to the town. His boys wear better 
clothes at school, have more and better things to eat, 
carry the best pen-knives, the finest tops and the 

123 



Old School Days. 

costliest marbles ; they enjoy especial attentions from 
the teacher, who recognizes the influence of the father, 
and these boys are often the source of envy of those 
less favored. The rich boy finds plenty of "toadies" 
who bow down to his superiority, while he finds an 
inward pleasure in such sycophancy, even rewarding 
it, at times, by a division of his mrnor possessions. 
His sister, in the meantime, joins the "Colonial 
Dames," as it is not demanded that she establish the 
fact whether her ancestor was a private or a high 
officer — a farm hand or a cavalier — a carpenter or an 
aristocrat. 

Though the boy's sister and his mother, cousins and 
aunts are traditionally supposed to monopolize all the 
gossip and scandal that is afloat, he comes in for his 
own share, though he has, with threats of terrible ret- 
ribution, been warned against it. He calls one of 
his chums aside and, in most profound secrecy, im- 
parts to him some dark deeds that are charged to 
some playmate's father, brother or uncle ; he had 
married his governess, house-girl or cook ; he had 
cheated a country parson in a horse swap, or appro- 
priated the money belonging to a ward. The uncle 
was once crazy and had been confined in a lunatic 
asylum, while a cousin had once drawn a knife to kill 
a school teacher. These, with many other family 
skeletons, were confided, in deathless secrecy, and 
many an unfortunate boy has sufifered terrible ostra- 
cism by these little whisperings of gossip among his 
schoolmates. It is simplv a part of the warp and 

124 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

woof of human nature, which develops in early life, 
to sit in judgment upon the faults and foibles of 
fellow-creatures. It unfortunately expands and be- 
comes more serious as we journey through life, until, 
as with the old Athenians, the love of it becomes 
almost a furor, which effervesces from the scandal- 
monger's tongue in the most sparkling details. Some 
people seem ever to be groping among the sewers of 
human nature and, with a muck-rake of vile imagin- 
ings, are ever searching for the evil there may be in 
their fellow-creatures. The good and beautiful in- 
terest them not, as they seem to live to denounce and 
pull down. Dr. Rainsford, of New York, spoke truly, 
when he recently said that our standard of social 
purity can never be any higher so long as we con- 
tinue to feed prurient scandals, and that the blame for 
the shame of that city was not on the shoulders of 
its fallen women, but upon intelligent Christianity, 
which sits at home entrenched in selfishness. At the 
door of the scandal-monger rests the responsibility 
for nearly all social and domestic happiness. 

Through the influence of the boy's love affairs, 
as well as his natural social inclinations, he soon 
forms a part of the circle devoted to dancing, candy- 
pullings and other amusements, where young people 
of both sexes are drawn together. Among his first 
accomplishments is that of dancing. At first, he only 
timidly ventures into the square dances, such as 
lancers, cotillions and reels, but finally he is not afraid 
of the schottische, polka, mazourka and waltz. At 

125 



Old School Days. 

the ordinary "hops" of our boyhood, however, the 
square dances predominated, and there were usually 
two negro musicians, with a fiddle and a triangle, to 
which was occasionally added a tambourine and the 
invariable patting of the fiddler's foot, in unison with 
the music. On grand occcasions, a base viol was also 
brought in, to spoil the other music with its deep, 
growling and discordant notes. But the music cut 
no figure in those days, as the inharmonies could 
have been thumped out of a superannuated piano and 
answered fully as wxll. It was the happiness of being 
with your best girl, but this was sometimes marred 
by your rival's superior terpsichorian accomplishments 
— a superior one in the eyes of the girl, at this time, 
and later in life. A good dancer, like a fine tenor 
voice, goes a long way toward winning a girl's heart. 
Such a rival must be met with a great number of 
counter-balancing qualities and you would never out- 
strip him, if he was allowed to dance and sing all the 
time. 

With falling in love, other changes are observed 
in the boy. He is less taciturn and seems to find 
many new things in life. His personal apparel re- 
ceives more attention, and he begins to beg for new 
suits, shoes, hats and cravats. His hair is combed 
with greater care, and if it did not lie down promptly, 
he could, when occasion presented, use oil and pomade. 
He would use up all of mother's and sister's cologne 
water, saturating his handkerchief and clothes, lest 
he might not have another chance at it. (I once 

126 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

poured a quantity of some sort of hair-renewer, be- 
longing to an old maid aunt, over my handkerchief 
and head.) After much effort (possibly through 
some trade at school) he gets hold of an old watch, 
and when he secures a shining brass chain for the 
same and some jewelry gewgaw on his cravat, his 
happiness is very nearly complete. He surveys him- 
self in the mirror, turns around in different positions, 
practicing bowing and smiling, walking and posing, 
displaying every inch as much vanity as could be 
charged against our young sisters. 

When he goes forth, thus regaled to visit 
his sweetheart, he is in such a timorous 
and excited state of mind, that the chances 
are he will walk by her front gate in order to work 
up his courage, and take that tell-tale look out of his 
face. The boy is conscious of the eyes of the whole 
world being fixed upon him and intently watching the 
developm.ents of his love aft'airs. He is sure that the 
servants know all about it, else they would not snicker 
and wear such significant looks when he calls. Oi 
course the girl's brothers and sisters know all about 
it, and even the father and mother must have been 
apprised of such a momentous matter as his infatua- 
tion for Mary. But, as he ruminates over the affaii" 
and makes a thousand resolves, as to his methods oi 
pursuing his courtship, the idea comes home to him 
that he has never told his girl anything about it. 
He has looked his love, and acted and hinted of hi^ 
love, but has never actually declared it. He will dc 

127 



Old School Days. 

lay it no longer, but will declare it that very evening. 
He even rehearses how he will lead up to the sub- 
ject, and learns, by heart, a beautiful little love speech 
he will make. 

All is now mentally adjusted, and he turns about 
and enters her yard. Her father meets him at the 
door, and there is something in his demeanor that 
is not reassuring. Possibly the "old man" is medi- 
tating on interposing. This is quite probable, as the 
course of true love is sometime followed by a course 
of lectures, and therefore can't run smooth. Fear 
and misgiving gradually take possession of the young 
lover, and he wishes he had not come. 

But Mary appears and her gracious smile dis- 
sipates all doubt. She knows what he has come to 
say, at least he assumes that she does, and that, 
furthermore, she is ready to hear it and to say "yes." 
She even leads him into the parlor and saiggests the 
sofa for their tete-a-tete. The moment had arrived. 
He would lead up to the subject, without loss of 
time. But alas ! A loosely uttered word often 
changes destinies. Mary had slightly shuddered 
from the coolness of the room. "You shiver," he 
said, with some solicitude; "I trust you have not 
taken cold?" 

"No," she replied, laughing. "It must have been a 
goose walking over my grave." Then he, with 
marked attention, said, "Happy goose." She smiled 
a second more, then looked serious, turned red in 
the face, grew angry, and with a contemptuous toss of 

128 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

the head, whisked out of the room. He heard her 
burst into tears, and, as her sobbing continued, the 
family rushed to her room. Our youth was non- 
plussed, but fearing her big brother would scowl in 
upon him, he sought his hat and took to his heels, 
with the speed of the wind. The romance was ended. 

Nothing offers a greater stumbling block to the 
boy's social career than bashfulness. It requires long 
and trying experiences for him to feel natural and at 
ease in the presence of girls. He can't rid himself 
of the thought that everybody is watching him and 
noticing all that he does, or attempts to say. He is 
conscious of many of his imperfections — his dress, 
his awkwardness and his inability to find words for 
the conversation — in fact, his many shortcomings, 
which he confesses mentally to himself, but which he 
would resent if charged by others. Without realizing 
it, he is constantly making the matter worse, and as he 
wades deeper into the mire, he rebukes himself, grows 
irritable towards other boys who display an easy and 
natural manner and is in a frame to chastise any- 
one who dares "to poke fun at him." 

Numerous difficulties have arisen among boys who 
have unconsciously given grievous offense to their 
bashful and blushing companions. 

There is little doubt that more agonies are suf- 
fered than the world will ever know, by these timid 
and bashful youngsters. I have heard it asserted 
that a boy doesn't know how to blush, and the asser- 
tion is urged with such asperity that one is lead to 

129 



Old School Days. 

believe that blushing is a virtue. But the boy does 
blush, and instead of a virtue, he regards it as one 
of the greatest afilictions of his Creator, since it is 
always the outward indication of the misery he is 
undergoing. It is true that some importance is 
attached to the matter, in the outside world, as 
to call a man an "unblushing scoundrel," is a 
most distinct slur on his character, and to tell 
another that you "blush for him," is a com- 
mon form of insult. Air. Darwin's observation 
determined the fact that blushing is confined to 
the human species, while the good old Burton pre- 
scribes, that to overcome it you should anoint the 
face at night with hare's blood, and, in the morning, 
wash it out with strawberry and cow-slip water. 

The boy always manifests a keen interest in the 
mysterious and marvellous. Any and everything of 
this kind possesses for him a secret charm. This 
is displayed early in life, in the rapt attention he 
gives to nursery tales and to Black Mammy's re- 
cital of those occult things pertaining to voodooism. 
It is exhibited in their visits to the gypsies, and 
other fortune tellers, as well as exhibitions of mind- 
reading, hypnotism, mesmerism and phrenology. 
When he is old enough to become a "subject" for the 
phrenologist, he is one of the first to answer when 
the victims are called. lie may not know what is 
philoprogciiitirencss and alUncntivcncss, together with 
vitivencss and itihabitivciicss, but the worthy bump- 
ologist tells him that he has all of them in a most 

130 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

marked degree. Then he is shown to have a num- 
ber of "ahtys," such as ideahty, individuaHty, event- 
uaHty and casuality, — all of which is Greek to the 
boy, but he is furnished a chart, goes home and feels 
over his cranium and finds out all about it. There 
is a great deal of humbuggery in this phrenology busi- 
ness, though it is not without great possibilities. 
The student or physician who gives to his fellow 
man some comprehensive knowledge of the law which 
governs temperaments, and the bi-sexual relations, 
touches one of the foundation stones of nature, and 
he who teaches this lesson will be a noble savior of 
his race. This law of human temperaments, which 
teaches that certain dispositions are suited to each 
other, while certain others are totally unfitted to each 
other, is the pedestal of happiness or misery. There 
is a possibility that it might aid materially some unfor- 
tunate incubus of heredity and save many from pre- 
mature graves. 

As the boy approaches closely to manhood he is 
found possessed of a large amount of fetich super- 
stition, which is nowadays called a fad. He has not 
yet overcome his aversion to graveyards at night, and 
what is more, he never will. He still has some queer 
ideas about Friday being an unlucky day, and this 
will most likely cling to him. He also entertains 
a vague respect for the horse shoe superstition, the 
notes of a screech-owl, and other things of evil omen. 
But his special predilection is for the rabbit-foot, 
which, if it has brought him one piece of good luck, is 

131 



Old School Days. 

likely to hold his faith for the balance of his days. 
The same applies to the buck-eye, which is carried in 
the pocket continuously, as playing an important part 
in his destiny. This fetich worship, only slightly 
developed in boyhood, plays an important part among 
his elders in the outer world. It is recorded of Henry 
Irving, the noted actor, that he once changed the bill 
from "Hamlet," even after he had reached his dress- 
ing-room, because the rabbit-foot was missing, which 
he always used in making up for that character. He 
claimed that he felt a presentiment that something 
would go wrong, if he persisted in going on without 
his talisman. These incidents go to show that super- 
stition is as strong among the educated as among 
the inexperienced and ignorant. 

In another place in this volume we have enlarged 
upon the subject of the correction of boys, which we 
desire to be distinct from that period of boyhood now 
under consideration. As he draws near to the time 
when he is to lay aside his studies from the high 
school, either for a course in college, or to enter 
business life, he is subject only to correction through 
criticism. Whether this is administered in the school- 
room, at home, or by friends and relatives, it requires 
some tact and ingenuity to give such advice or criti- 
cism with the force intended. The boy grows very 
"techy," upon such matters as he enters this advanced 
state, and when there is a slight out-cropping upon 
his upper lip. No matter if rigid discipline demands, 
or the cloak of authority prompts a certain amount 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

of criticism, the effect is unpleasant, unless given in 
a very quiet and gentle way, and outside the pres- 
ence of any one else. He resents anything that is 
patronizing or that may have the appearance of an 
order from any one outside of his parents. It is a 
matter of general observation that any effort to direct 
the emotions has a tendency to produce the opposite 
effect ; even to challenge a man to be brave is to make 
him nervous — to bid him admire a person, or a work 
of art is to suggest that he be critical ; to command 
maid or lass to love their parents is to chill certain 
nascent inclinations in the desired direction. This is 
demonstrated throughout life — to make a duty for a 
Montague to hate a Capulet, is to start the loves of 
Romeo and Juliet. We may suggest the feeling, but 
cannot possibly impose it. It is easy to criticize the 
minister, the church, the school and the world in 
general, but these are often needlessly and harshly 
expressed. Most people can be led, few driven, even* 
children, without spoiling them. Even servants are 
averse to unnecessary or harsh criticism, and it is 
bad policy to use it. It is so easy to complain when 
things do not please and quite as easy to forget, 
when they are well done. Many a boy has been hope- 
lessly ruined in disposition and calloused in heart by 
being made a scape-goat for all the bad temper and 
fault-finding of the family. On the other hand, many 
noble deeds have been accomplished and many a man 
helped to greatness, because of proper words of en- 
couragement. Numerous instances of this kind of 

133 



Old School Days. 

fault-finding now illumine the pages of history. Out- 
side of the incident of the Pharisee and the Publican, 
who went up in the temple to pray, there are the 
words of the old rabbi, who was awakened by one 
of his twelve sons, who said: "Behold my eleven 
brothers sleeping, and I am the only one who wakens 
to pray in the still watches of the night." "Son," 
said the wise old rabbi, "you had better sleep too, 
than wake to censure your brothers." 

In concluding this division of our memoirs of boy- 
hood, we are made to realize its many flagrant im- 
perfections, its numerous omissions and our utter in- 
ability to compass all the varied features of that 
checkered epoch of life. In justification of such 
shortcomings, we might plead the lapse of memory, 
upon one hand, while on the other, it may be that the 
circumscribed limits of our early associations were 
not sufficiently comprehensive to give a general char- 
*acter to the work. We have purposely omitted the 
period of boy life after leaving the preparatory and 
high school to enter college, as it does not strictly fall 
within the limits of the purpose of this volume. 

The college boy is a different individual altogether, 
as he has cast aside most of those arts and crafts 
which render him an interesting feature of boy life. 
In a measure, he is a premature man, who has dis- 
carded and repudiated all those foibles and idiosyn- 
crasies, artless simplicities and wholesome oddities, 
which are essentially a part of the general life of 
boyhood. He may still retain many of the traits, 

134 



Other Concomitants of Boyhood. 

qualities and ambitions which were planted in early 
youth, but they are now amalgamated with so much 
concealment, dissembling and duplicity that he is not 
the genuine boy of the ''Old School Days." 

We realize further, that much more could have been 
said concerning sports, pastimes and athletics, as 
being leading features of boy life. This is true, 
while at the same time it must be remembered that 
these same sports, etc., have a purely local character, 
and, as such, could not add much to the general 
interest of the work. However, in the closing chap- 
ter, or "Comprehensive Retrospection," we have added 
a great number of features — some of which were 
largely local — though nearly all peculiar to the ex- 
treme South. 

The old school itself might have come in for a 
greater share of attention, but we have adhered to 
what was said in our preface, as to "telling tales out 
of school," and to shield much from the unsympa- 
thetic public, that might be told of the old academy 
and its multifold secrets. Furthermore, we think we 
have gone more or less extensively into this branch 
of the subject, and believe enough has been told for 
all the interest v/hich such recitals may have given 
to the volume. 

The subject of the wild and adventurous procliv- 
ities of boys, in running away from school and home, 
might have been properly and more extensively 
treated, but that is not a normal, or usual, trait of 
boyhood. The writer could give his own personal ex- 

135 



Old School Days. 

perience in that line, which was fraught with many 
tribulations to himself, but it is one of those dark 
epochs of the long ago which we would prefer 
should sleep in oblivion. 

Indeed, there may have been a great deal omitted 
that could have added more interest to the subject, 
but with all of its imperfections, we trust we have, 
with some degree of faithfulness, given a reasonably 
fair biography of boyhood. 



136 



Literature of Boyhood. 



CHAPTER IX. 

literature of Bopbooa. 

A CHILD is, or can be, the most interesting of all 
creations, but human aid is required to invest it with 
the full interest it is capable of bearing, and its future 
depends on the manner in which this aid is given. 
Most children run on the lines their parents have 
laid down for them and glide into the fixed termini 
which these tutors have assured them are best and 
most convenient. The choice of the first books, to 
which the child becomes accustomed, rests with its 
parents, and the importance of this choice can hardly 
be exaggerated. 

The books of our boyhood, for the special delight 
of children, were far more limited than nowadays, 
and as they cost possibly three or four times as much 
as they do at present, the circulation was circumscribed 
and their possession more keenly appreciated. After 
the boy has out-grown the nursery rhymes and fairy 
tales, and begun to appreciate more stirring reading, 
he generally becomes a sympathetic peruser, and an 
enthusiastic admirer of the old sea rovers. 

There is something about a free life on the ocean 
wave which appeals strongly to the most cherished 

137 



Old School Days. 

inclination of boyhood. The swish of the briny waves, 
the odor of the salt winds, the roll of shining waters, 
the scream of birds, the roar of breakers on the reef — 
all of these enraptured the imagination and stirred 
the depths of the youthful mind. Such was the im- 
pression made by the daring and recklessness of 
"Black Beard," "Red Ralph/' and the many famous 
buccaneers of the past. The vision of a corsair 
barque, swift-winged as an eagle, speeding "o'er the 
glad waters of the dark, blue sea," and suddenly 
swooping down upon some rich argosy, or desperately 
attacking and sacking some town on the shores of 
El Dorado, possessed a thrilling interest which was 
never forgotten in after years. In those days of boy- 
hood, the ethics of piracy of Olenois, Kidd, Drake and 
others did not trouble the youthful mind, but rather 
inflamed it with longing to engage in this question- 
able sea roving. The logic of youth justified the 
canons formulated by these terrible men — the maim- 
ing and slaying, robbing, kidnapping, "walking the 
plank," and other features of pirate life — were all 
the fortunes of war. If Spaniards were foolish 
enough to go down to the sea in ships, with the cer- 
tainty of being overhauled by the Red Rover, they 
must put up with the dismal consequences. The im- 
pression thus created we carried to school, and would 
often cover our slates and exercise-books with crude 
outlines of piratical craft — all low in the water, with 
sharp prows, big sails and portentous flags, em- 
blazoned with the skull and cross bones. The sailors 

138 



Literature of Boyhood. 

were most formidable looking creatures and we in- 
variably provided them with fierce moustaches of 
tremendous length. Happy were the boys in those days 
who lived near a pond or stream, on which they could 
launch their rudely constructed imitations of pirate 
ships, each mounted with tiny brass cannon and 
loaded to the mouth with slate pencil dust. To these 
piratical craft were given such names as "Water 
Witch," "Ocean Serpent," "Pirate King," or they 
were called after the names of the buccaneers them- 
selves. 

And what a world of thrilling interest there is for 
the youngster in Defoe's famous narrative of "Robin- 
son Crusoe." The boy who has never read that 
book would be hard to locate, and, if found, could 
not legitimately lay claim to having experienced one 
of the chief glories of youth. It is conceived to be 
one of the chiefest works of all the vast literature of 
childhood. How vividly impressed upon the child 
mind is that quaint figure, standing upon its lonely 
isle, dressed in his goat skin cap and his goat skin 
garments, while he grasps his musket with one hand 
and shades his eyes with the other, as he looks out to 
sea to catch sight of some vagrant ship. Again, 
after long absence from everything human, we see 
him startled by the remarkable appearance of a foot- 
print in the sand, and, as "the monarch of all he sur- 
veys," he starts forth to find that unexpected being 
in his faithful "Friday." The story, throughout, pos- 
sesses that continuous charm which is all-absorbing 

139 



Old School Days. 

to youth — adventure, alarm, subtle cunning, danger, 
and hair-breadth escapes. It matters not to the boy — 
a fact he seldom learns — that Crusoe (Selkirk) was 
himself a pirate. Indeed, the knowledge of this fact 
might have enveloped the hero with a more glorious 
crown of worship, if he had been known to belong to 
that charmed circle of corsairs. 

Robinson Crusoe (who was Alexander Selkirk) 
was a real character from the kingdom of Fife, Scot- 
land. For some indiscretion at home he ran away to 
sea, joining a pirate ship, which had been one of his 
early dreams. When they had reached the Southern 
Pacific he became involved in a difficulty with his 
chief over the division of booty, and he was marooned, 
being put off on the island of Juan Fernandez, about one 
hundred and fifty miles west of Chile. After twelve 
years of solitary life on this island he was picked up 
by a passing vessel and taken back to Scotland. In 
his native town of Lower Largo, in 1885, one of his 
wealthy lineal descendants erected a statue in his 
honor, in a niche in front of the house in which he 
was born in 1676. In this same house Defoe met 
his hero and obtained from him the story which has 
been immortalized. 

There is an equal charm for the boy in the wonder- 
ful exploits of Don Quixote, and in our boyhood, 
when copies of this book were not so easily avail- 
able, I can recall the old frayed and worn copy that 
had done service in many families. The daring of this 
valiant knight, coupled with the escapades of his 

140 



Literature of Boyhood. 

faithful follower, Sancho Panza, set the youthful 
imagination astir with deeds of valor, love and adven- 
ture. Though much of the force of the work may 
have suffered from translation, it still remains one of 
the greatest books for the amusement and education 
of boyhood. It is a singular fact, in connection with 
this book, that it should have been written while 
Cervantes, its author, was in prison and suffering 
from physical infirmity and other unfavorable environ- 
ments. 

The same thing is true of the production of the 
"Pilgrim's Progress," another book which holds a 
warm place in the affections of youth. It is pos- 
sible, however, that the peculiar situation, imprison- 
ment and persecution of John Bunyan furnished the 
principal stimulant for this immortal dream, which 
might, under other circumstances, have been lost to 
the world. 

"Valentine Vox" is another fiction of the long ago, 
which was wonderfully popular with the boys, as it 
was brimful of adventure. One does not soon forget 
a certain serio-comic scene in this book, where the 
soles of a gentleman's feet, confined in a private mad- 
house, are tickled to make him mad, ready for the 
government inspector, who is to pass upon his case. 
This novel appeared before the day of sensational 
stories, but it could certainly lay claim to that title. 
The book also had a good deal of low-class humor 
and described practical jokes, which always appeals 
to the boys. 

141 



Old School Days. 

"The Vicar of Wakefield," is an immortal tale, 
which, in purity of plot and style, is not surpassed 
by any production of literature. It is especially 
adapted to the fancies of childhood and the world is 
always made healthier and brighter by such charm- 
ing books. Strange to say, this book is said to have 
resulted from the author's disgust with his chosen 
profession, which was that of a physician. No matter 
what may have been the incentive, Dr. Goldsmith must 
have realized and felt, when it was completed, that 
he had won friends wherever English is spoken. 
There are books of the day which have a great at- 
traction for the young while they are young, which 
for another generation of youthful readers will lose 
all their charm and meaning. But it can be said of 
"The Vicar of Wakefield," that it has lived through 
several generations and is just as interesting to-day 
as when it first came from the press. 

The books to which we have referred are selected, 
more or less, at random, from a considerable number 
that were prominent thirty-five years ago, many of 
which are still much read, while others have passed 
into oblivion. Taste is an arbitrary power, compell- 
ing us to repudiate to-morrow what we glory in to- 
day. Numberless books arc published annually, os- 
tensibly as boy literature, but it is questionable if 
they perform that educational duty which, midcr the 
guise of pleasure, every child's book worthy of the 
name should perform. 

In these days of theory and realism, it is some- 
142 



Literature of Boyhood. 

times exceedingly difficult, in spite of the over-abun- 
dance of literature, to find stories that we are willing 
to give our boys and girls. Every genuine mother 
desires that her child shall have high ideals. It is 
natural for boys and girls to be hero-worshippers, and 
it is desirable for the formation of their own char- 
acters that these heroes shall be worthy of worship. 
The tendency of modern literature is to give photo- 
graphic pictures of modern society, with its common- 
place women and money-seeking men. It may be that 
the old age of romance and lofty ideals is a dead age, 
and that none of the knights of to-day are gallant 
enough to fight wind mills, like the noble Don Quixote 
de la IMancha, but every true mother desires that her 
boys shall be as chivalrous, and the girls as gentle and 
womanly, as the ladies of the by-gone age. Do the 
heroes of the modern novel stimulate the boy to noble 
endeavor? Youth is so imitative that there is great 
danger that the boy who reads the fiction of the hour, 
shall set up for his ideal the commonplace hero of the 
modern novel. This hero may be interesting to the 
student of human nature as a perfect diagram of 
anatomy may be interesting to the student of physiol- 
ogy, but if we wish to stimulate a child's love of 
beauty we would not be likely to give it a botanist's 
plate of dissected flowers, but as perfect a blossom as 
it were possible to get. 

It is true that "grizzling hair the brain doth clear," 
and that "when we have come to forty year" we 
find many of our loftiest ideals filled with sawdust, 

143 



Old School Days. 

yet there are few of us who will not say that we 
have been better men and women for the possession of 
those ideals. The youth who is fed on the romances 
of a generation ago, finds no lack of high ideas. 
The boy, whose hero is "Ivanhoe," or "Ouentin Dur- 
ward," receives a quickening impulse to his higher 
nature, which could never be gained by a perusal of 
the most polished rhetoric reciting the tale of a Wall 
street experience. It is a mistake to take the senti- 
ment out of a boy's or girl's life. True sentiment is 
a part of every true woman, and the girl born to know 
too easily the realities and false pretense of the world 
around her, is sure, earlier or later, to become a coarse, 
worldly woman, whose Christian character is in dan- 
ger of becoming absorbed in materialism. The girl 
who reads the story of the "Bride of Lammermoor," 
or the "Heart of Mid-Lothian," and does not find the 
impulses thrilled to the uttermost by these simple 
stories of Scottish life, written by the great master 
hand, must possess a coarse nature. The reading of 
these stories by growing schoolboys and girls should 
be encouraged. They supply just that romance and 
genuine sentiment which every young man and woman 
feels to be wanting in the modern novel. The pres- 
ent is also a golden age for one who wants to get 
information cheap. Easy roads to learning lie 
stretched before him in all directions. Not a science 
but has a primer, not a language but has its cheap 
dictionary, not a poet or a novel but can be secured 
for almost a song. 

144 



Literature of Boyhood. 

It has been a subject of remark that the many tragic 
and heroic incidents of our war with Spain, had not 
furnished the proper inspiration and impetus to the 
minstrels of the hour. For some mysterious reason 
the tuneful lyre is silent, and not one has come forth 
to "smite the harp and sing in deathless strain." 

It was not so during the memorable Civil war. It 
was then that the muse dipped her wings in lustral 
waters and flashed upon the world those specimens 
of deathless verse, which in grandeur of sentiment, 
eloquent symphonies and martial grandiloquence, must 
forever sparkle in the diadem of immortality. 

The following, from a long list, will suffice to show 
the quantity of the great war lyrics : 

"Voyage of the Good Ship Union," O. W. Holmes ; 
"Clouds in the West," A. J. Requier ; "The Stars and 
Bars," A. J. Requier; "Boy Brittan," Forceythe Wil- 
son ; "The Cumberland," Longfellow ; "Little Giffin 
of Tennessee," F. O. Ticknor; "Stonewall Jackson's 
Way," J. W. Palmer ; "Twilight on Sumpter," R. H. 
Stoddard; "Gettysburg," E. C. Stedman; "At Port 
Royal," J. G. Whittier; "Our Country's Call," 
Byrant; "Maryland, My Maryland," J. R. Randall; 
"A Cry to Arms," Henry Timrod ; "Men of the North 
and West," Stoddard; "The Reveille," Bret Harte; 
"Carolina," Henry Timrod ; "The Virginians of the 
Valley," F. O. Ticknor; "The Battle of Charleston 
Harbor," Paul H. Hayne ; "Abraham Lincoln," R. H. 
Stoddard; "Commemoration Ode," J. R. Lowell; 
"Ashes of Glory," A. J. Requier; "The Conquered 

145 



Old School Days. 

Banner," Father Ryan; "OCaptain, My Captain," Walt 
Whitman ; "The Blue and the Gray," F. M. Finch ; 
'"Ode in Honor of the Soldiers of the South," Paul 
H. Hayne; "Hymn for Decoration Day," Henry Tim- 
rod, 

The list could be added to almost indefinitely. 
There is Mrs. Howe's "Battle Hymn of the Republic," 
Whittier's "Barbara Frietchie," Harte's "John Brown 
of Gettysburg," Read's "Sheridan's Ride," H. L. 
Flasher's "Zollicoffer" and "Death of Stonewall Jack- 
son," Stedman's "How Old John Brown Took 
Harper's Ferry," and Ethel Lynn Beers' "All Quiet 
Along the Potomac To-night." 

There are also those well-remembered songs : 
"Marching Through Georgia," "Tenting To-night," 
"Just Before the Battle, Mother," and others, which 
will live forever. 



146 



The Old Home and Its Memories. 



CHAPTER X. 

CDC Old I>otnc ana Its memories. 

In revisiting the scenes of bygone days, the brooks, 
waysides, and hedgerows are perhaps the last to yield 
to the effacing finger of Time. They look much the 
same, in their annual habiliments, as they did in the 
long ago, before the vandal axe of the woodman had 
destroyed the growth of forests and groves, which 
were the landmarks of that period. It is a time, too, 
when one can find his affections going back strongly 
to the old days when the same elders and rushes dipped 
into the limpid brook, and when the old homestead 
was rich in blossoms, and the moonlight played, fairy- 
like, upon the ancestral lawn. The same brown thrush 
is clucking in the hedges, the catbird is alternately 
singing and fretting, while the identical leather- 
winged bat sallies forth at evening for his daily in- 
sect meal. There is the same timorous hare, ven- 
turing out at twilight, while the katydid and the 
cricket are singing the same old songs. 

In the orchards the apple and peach trees have 
dropped their pink-tipped blossoms, and the tiny fruit 
gives promise of a luscious harvest by-and-by. The 
old rail fence (fast giving place to wire) is still in evi- 

147 



Old School Days. 

dence, and is bedecked abundantly with wreaths of 
creeping dewberries and garlands of ground ivy. 
Tall brambles also rise in its corners and hang out 
their purple fruit in tempting clusters. Wild phlox 
here and there raise their solitary stalks and burst out 
in stately flowers. 

You select one of these lanes, which are plentiful 
in the country, that winds among the woodlands and 
the fields and which has been forever free from the 
wheels of commerce. It is far away from the echoes 
of the world, and given over entirely to nature. A 
slumberous wood borders on one side, while on the 
other is a field, whose bloom and perfume mingle 
in unspeakable perfection. A bank runs under the 
edge of the lane and in the dark, perilous beauty of 
blossom you observe the deadly wild artichoke and 
night-shade growing side by side, with the homely, 
but healthy, wild thyme. Trailing from the high 
hedge top and wreathing downward to the bank, the 
honeysuckles dispute with the wild roses and mus- 
cadines. Out of the depths of the wood comes anon 
the drowsy cooing of a dove, or the quaint notes of 
the raincrow. A partridge, with her brood of tiny 
chicks, comes through a gap and runs across the 
lane, while ground squirrels, and their aristocratic 
brothers of the trees, scamper away at your approach. 

Over there stands the old home, almost given over 
to decav, and in the hands of strangers, who seem to 
be waiting for it to tumble down and disapppcar. 
The empty windows look at us, as though in reproach, 

148 



The Old Home and Its Memories. 

while the echoing walls seem to sigh as we pass, be- 
cause they know its good old days can never come 
again. Yet, in that old house, there are long biog- 
raphies — a family history of a generation. We close 
our eyes, for an instant, and it rises before the mental 
vision as boyhood's happy home. We climb the flight 
of steps, down which we trotted as children upon a 
thousand errands and missions. Here is the tiny room 
where our first lessons were learned ; there stood the 
old cupboard from which we filched raisins and cake ; 
in the corner of the next room stood the old family 
library, every volume from which we had read before we 
were sixteen ; down those old stairs we had chased 
each other in a race to meet father coming home 
from town. Surely, the ghosts of all who once were 
here will resent the neglect into which the old home 
has fallen. The out-houses, servants' quarters, stable 
and carriage shed, as well as the dovecote, chicken 
house and dog kennels, have all disappeared and are 
numbered among the things that were. But all can 
be located in memory, while a few fragments, scat- 
tered here and there, tangibly attest their ancient exist- 
ence. The walks of the lawn, not entirely eradicated, 
are still marked by straggling and distorted traces 
of the boxwood which formerly lined each walk. 
The old oaks are there, gnarled and frowning, as 
though they, too, were hoping for dissolution, since 
all else had departed. All the quondam vistas are 
changed, and, in the vandalism of progress, even the 



149 



Old School Days. 

weeping willows on the roadside, leading to the vil- 
lage, have been cut down. 

The village itself, now grown into a city, no longer 
bears any semblance to the town of boyhood. New 
and strange things have come into life and usurped 
the landmarks of youth. New faces and alien people 
now throng its streets, while the scream of whistles, 
hum of factories and noise of street cars, now take 
the place of the orderly silence that once reigned. 

The mother of old school days was the bulwark of 
home and society. Her lines of life were cast in quiet 
places, and uninfluenced by the rapid march of the 
world, she found pleasure and happiness in the routine 
of domestic duties. One looks back to her with lov- 
ing reverence, even to the "chastisings" with which 
she disciplined him for his own good. He regards 
with awesome delight her self-sacrifices, which, on 
his part were undeserved, yet she has ministered to 
him and stimulated in him a desire to be clean enough 
and upright enough to deserve her companionship. 
She had but few theories and looked at life with open, 
honest eyes. She knew herself to be a woman and 
was content, though in the distance she may have 
heard the voices of some of her masculine sisters 
clamoring for more of woman's rights. The great 
trouble with that class of reformers, in those times, 
as well as the present, was an inability to form an 
alliance with their own sex, either offensive or defensive. 
The mother of long ago had views of her own, but 
outside of the home circle, or in church matters, she 

150 



The Old Home and Its Memories. 

never sought any expression of them. Her duty, 
first and all the time, was to her home, which was 
embellished by her economies and made radiant by 
her virtues and unalloyed spirituality. 

One of the leading epochs of these old days was 
the annual house cleaning. Our father used to call 
it the "annual malady," as he was turned out of doors 
immediately after breakfast, and informed that the 
mid-day meal would be very limited that day. This 
household cataclysm, or mania, breaks out in the 
spring, soon after the bluebird has returned and be- 
gins to warble his dulcet notes. It is like the measles 
— when it breaks out in a family it has to run its 
course. Some experts have been so harsh as to call 
it a species of emotional insanity, absolutely incurable. 
It has well defined and well understood symptoms, 
which are manifested by a bewildering appearance of 
scrubbing brushes, mops, soap and tubs, which are 
menacingly arranged along the back porch the even- 
ing before the assault begins. When the latter is 
over, and everything has found its way back to its 
accustomed place, the exiled and straggling remnants 
of the family are once more called in from their sundry 
hiding places and domestic life assumes the "even tenor 
of its way." This malady is one which has afflicted 
womankind, from the earliest ages. Pliny mentions 
the fact that, in his day, the Roman wives turned their 
households upside down for a week under the pretense 
of getting things clean, and possibly the expurga- 
tion of that insect which "has no wings at all;, but 

151 



Old School Days. 

gets there all the same." It is quite probable that 
the famous pictures of the catacombs of Egypt, rep- 
resenting a lot of household furniture in front of an 
Egyptian residence, is a record of the same effect. 

The servant girl problem was never so serious in 
the old days as it is to-day, but there were trials in- 
numerable experienced with this queen of the back 
yard. In the South, in those days, such help was 
usually negro girls, and while they were in subjection 
they were often possessed of unruly traits which would 
sometimes lead to evil consequences. If angered by 
the mistress, through the effect of some scold or 
reprimand, it was not improbable that the hired girl 
would revenge herself in some way upon the chil- 
dren, or secretly break some valuable piece of bric-a- 
brac. Many were her methods of cunning, if she 
were evilly disposed. She was sometimes called into 
the kitchen to assume temporary charge, and this 
would usually raise her dander to a high pitch, as she 
hated such work. To cause her recall, she would 
adopt some ingenious method, usually an assumption 
of cheerfulness, and with a predilection for singing, 
her spirits would exult in noisy sounds; if not sing- 
ing a solo, she would be banging the andirons, 
shaking the tables and coal scuttles, poking the fire, 
rattling the stove lids, turning over chairs, dropping the 
crockery and giving other evidence of her "joyous- 
ness." Such soimds are not music to the ear of the 
good housewife, and it would not usually take long 



152 



The Old Home and Its Memories. 

for the servant girl to carry her point and secure her 
extirpation from the kitchen. 

But the true empress of the old-time kitchen, as 
well as the most important and consequential person 
on the premises, was "Black Mammy." Many have 
sung her praises, and, from the standpoint of our 
northern friends, she must have become one of the 
oldest targets of southern humor and affection. Yet, 
her memory is dear to the heart of every southern boy, 
and as human nature has deeper roots than any dictates 
of literary pleasure, we will go on singing the praises 
of this blessed old soul until time shall be no more. 
What could appeal more strongly to the boyish heart 
than some one who was ever ready to gratify his 
perennial state of hunger? She would save him the 
chicken livers and gizzards, or would steal him a 
luscious tea cake while it was hot from the oven, and 
would even anticipate his desires in everything that 
appealed to the stomach. Can a boy ever forget such 
a friend? It was Black Mammy who came to our 
relief when a basket of cooked dainties was all that 
stood in the way of a glorious picnic. She was our 
champion when tattlers brought us in close proximity 
to a switching. It is true that she sometimes switched 
us herself, but only when we knew that it was richly 
deserved, and we even welcomed it from her, as we 
full well knew if the matter were adjudicated by Ihe 
supreme heads of the family, our punishment would 
have been more severe. Through all the wretched- 
ness, which was sometimes the lot of childhood, but 

,153 



Old School Days. 

was evanescent — usually mere pin scratches — (and 
were not seriously considered by our elders) it was 
Black Mammy who came with soothing words and 
dried up our tears, assuaging our grief by giving us 
some little dainty. She told us thrilling stories — 
legends and traditions of her people — all about hob- 
goblins and haunts, and always with a moral of how the 
good little boy escaped all harm. In fact, she was 
the blessed patron of youth — its friend and defender — 
the guardian angel of boyhood. 

As to her cooking, and especially those substantial 
foods which graced the family board, she was vmex- 
- elled. Nobody could make such delicious rolls and 
iight bread, otherwise known as baker's bread. This 
was none of your modern bread, kneaded and cooked 
by half-naked men, in steaming underground kitchens, 
and among the cockroaches, spiders and vermin. 
How much better to contemplate it,, as made by 
Phyllis, with her round plump arms, bared to the 
elbow, and well washed hands, coated with paste and 
flour. This bread of the home-made is also more 
wholesome, because it is genuine, being innocent of 
those tricks by which some bakers are indemnified 
for loss in unsold goods and non-paying customers. 
And those delicious jams, marmalades and preserves 
she used to make are now only seen and tasted in 
memory. We buy them, but they are often an abomi- 
nation, and, though the mixing may have been done 
with the skill of practice, the result is not satisfactory, 
as the ingredients are not properly selected, and too 

154 



The Old Home and Its Memories 

much economy practised in order to make something 
cheap. This is illustrated by the fact that nearly all 
of the home-made preparations command a much 
hig-her price in the market. It is a grievous pity that 
this class of home industries is so rapidly passing 
into a lost art. 

There is also the old vegetable garden, with its 
walks bordered by sage and spinach, thyme and dwarf 
apples, and the whole enclosed by hedges of fig, 
quince, plum and pomegranate. In the clean swept 
walks we have spent hours catching the tiny little 
worms, called "jacks," which had burrowed in the 
path, using a sprig of cscalote to tempt him to bite 
and to draw him from his retreat. One of the prides 
of childhood was to be allowed to dig up things grown 
in the garden, such as grass-nuts, artichokes, tubers 
and ground peas. It was a practical use of the boy's 
propensity for destruction, while it furnished an op- 
portunity for him to gratify his everlasting appetite. 
The "goober" was the boy's especial delight, and, 
since those old days, has been recognized commercially 
as possessing many virtues, not only as an excellent 
cattle food, but its oil, as a lighting fluid and lubri- 
cant. From all of which it appears that this little 
plebeian peanut, which hitherto has been looked down 
upon as the stock-in-trade of the street corner vender, 
the food of the gallery god, and the luxury of the 
circus, has other and higher uses, and is playing a 
useful part in the economy of man and beast. 

Just outside of the garden is the apple and peach 
155 



Old School Days. 

orchard, which has furnished its quota to the pleas- 
ures and sorrows of boyhood. We could not wait for 
the tempting fruit to ripen, and in defiance of mother's 
injunction, plucked and ate the forbidden. In due 
time the natural result followed — the penalty of dis- 
obedience and the violation of natural law — when 
spasms of pain, frightened parents and a scurrying 
for the doctor, were in order. "Doctor!" What 
child can utter that name without bitter memories? 
While to say "medicine" is like talking of gravy to aper- 
son in the agonies of sea sickness. Mr. Spencer states 
that the notion of the efficacy of medicine being pro- 
portioned to its nastiness, is a survival from the old 
belief that disease was caused from an indwelling 
demon, who must be driven out by administering 
something to the patient as disagreeable as possible. 
In our boyhood we would readily have adopted this 
view, for if any demon could stand quinine, rhubarb 
and castor oil, he must indeed be a most determined 
devil. The doctor has been styled the "Good Samari- 
tan," and generally stands high in the affections of 
his rural patrons. In fact, he was a sort of rural 
oracle, in the old days, in everything except politics 
and religion, between which he had to steer with 
caution. It was just as prudent, in the long ago, 
that the old doctor should shy away also from any criti- 
cism of those customs, hallowed by age, such as 
tobacco chewing and smoking, as well as when pul- 
verized into snuff. 

The oracle of fashion was generally some gracious, 
156 



The Old Home and Its Memories. 

tactful spinster, and, in those days of the crinoline, 
chignon, waterfall and "Queen Emma" hats, she 
filled an important place. She smoothed away many 
embarrassments for her younger and more senti- 
mental sisters, and was ever a winsome figure in the 
moving panorama of social life. Our spinster was 
also an adept in needlework, stitching, smocking, 
knitting and embroidering with the utmost ease, and 
gladly imparting such information to the young girls. 
She also taught them how to make up presents for 
their sweethearts, in embroidered slippers, hemstitched 
handkerchiefs, fancy pincushions, sachet and tobacco 
pouches. Such an oracle is truly worthy of the 
title. And she was a great stickler for female modesty 
and for chivalry among their admirers, inculcating 
many ideas among the sexes, which are run down and 
trampled upon in the swift pace of modern social life. 
In the long ago, Saturday was the prominent day 
of the week, as the village was, at that time, thronged 
with people from the country districts. Along the 
outer edge of the sidewalk, in town, runs an almost 
continuous row of hitching posts, to which the ruralists 
attached their horses and mules, while those who had 
come in with ox teams generally secured them to their 
wagons and loosed the yoke that they might freely 
eat the timothy that had been brought for them. 
This Saturday-coming to town was continuous 
throughout the year, whether the winters were severe 
and the ground covered with snow, the roads in 
bad condition, or the summer heat was at its maxi- 

157 



Old School Days. 

mum, and from the highways dust would be rising 
in Winding clouds. The countryman was unde- 
terred from carrying out his time-honored custom, 
of visiting town on Saturday. Often he would have 
no particular business, beyond visiting the postoffice, 
but come he must, if he had to stop a plow to do so. 
Among other reasons, the farmer comes in for his mil- 
let seed, to see the "Squire," to quarrel over taxes, 
to renew his gin saws, or to buy a few luxuries in the 
way of sugar, coffee, tobacco and corn whiskey. This 
custom is still continued down to the present day, 
with some variations in conditions. The roads are now 
better, vehicles are lighter and nearly every farmer 
has an extra team of horses and a good buggy, and 
can cover the distance in a brief space of time. 

Saturday was also the boy's holiday from school, 
and he generally improved it in his own peculiar 
way, either hunting or fishing, gathering angelica, 
chestnuts and sweetgum, damming up brooks for swim- 
ming pools, and, in a hundred other ways he found 
the day too short to do all he had to do. Sometimes 
the holiday was utilized in a visit to the country, 
making an early start, at sunrise, in order to have the 
full benefit of the day. Such a journey would lead 
us through long stretches of rich pasture, watered by 
a slow moving stream ; groups of cattle cropping the 
bermuda of the meadows and on, through long vistas 
of shaggy woodland, in whose deep bowery recesses 
might be the haunts of Pan and his satyrs. There 
would be long ranges of corn and cotton fields, as well 

158 



The Old Home and Its Memories. 

as undulating slopes and hillsides, covered by green 
and gold effects of wheat and oats. These sights, 
with the shady lanes, birds, insects and flowers, as 
well as some fishing, and then repose under a grove 
of oaks, where lunch was enjoyed, would constitute 
the visit to the country. The return home would gen- 
erally develop some of the inevitable consequences of a 
sojourn in the summer woods — a liberal collection of 
chigoes and wood-ticks — which generally amused us 
for the following two or three days. But these are 
minor troubles, compared to the eternal torments of 
another summer visitor — the house-fly. A retro- 
spection of this little creature, leads us to think that 
he has largely contributed to lessening Christianity in 
the world, although they might have been employed 
to soften the heart of Pharaoh, and also to test the 
patience of Job. 

Few of us have the consideration and forbearance 
of Uncle Toby, in turning a captured fly loose, with 
the amiible and philosophic address to that insect 
touching the amplitude of the universe. A man may 
be a Cato in his conceits, but a Catullus in his con- 
duct. Our chief remembrance of the house-fly was 
wielding an immense peacock featherbrush, in fan- 
ning them from the paternal brow, during his post- 
prandial siesta, after we had taken turn-about in doing 
the same office at the table. These tasks were cheer- 
less and tiresome, while they embittered us against 
the fl.y, and we sought revenge by catching and im- 
prisoning him in bottles, or depriving him of his 

159 



Old School Days. 

wings or legs and turning him loose. In after years 
I '■ead of the adventures of the bald-headed man and 
the fly, which vividly brought back my early occu- 
pation. The bald-headed man lay asleep — this was the 
prologue to the drama. Act first was the descent of 
the fly on his head and his awakening from slumber 
by the energetic slap he gave his cranium in the hope 
of killing the intruder. But the fly deftly slipped 
away, alighted on the chandelier, laughed, as he spat 
on his hands and rubbed his wings for the next round. 
Then began act second. This was the arousing of 
vengeance. The bald-headed man secures a towel and 
lies in wait for the enemy. Effort after effort to 
secure his prey is made and he then again sinks to rest. 
The finale of the drama witnesses his waking up, on 
the fly's invitation to combat, conveyed this time by 
tickling the hairless man's nose. He seizes his towel 
once again and pursues the frisky and dastardly in- 
sect. His towel, in its wild swing, knocks over a pair 
of vases — then follows the ink stand, and he stops to 
mop up the ink from his carpet with the towel. Off he 
goes again in hot pursuit, now desperately mad. He 
sends the end of his stick, to which he has secured 
the towel, through a pane of glass. Finally he brings 
down the chandelier just as the fly sweeps victoriously 
out of the window, and the bald-headed man is left 
wiping and painting his face with the inky towel. 
Can any one wonder, after such an experience, at ihe 
propriety of the devil's name of Beelzebub, which, 
being interpreted, is "The Lord of Flies." 

160 



The Old Home and Its Memories. 

In concluding this feature of the memoirs of the 
old home, and old school days, it might be appro- 
priate to dwell upon the facts of being put to trade, 
or choosing a profession, but this has so little of the 
flavor of light-hearted boyhood that it has been 
omitted. It was also our original intention to make 
a special feature of a comprehensive comparison of 
city and country life, in the old times here recorded. 
This, too, has been abandoned, as the facts incor- 
porated, at random, in this volume, will sufficiently 
cover that subject. 

There was also an inclination to enlarge upon the 
subject of social life, and the chivalry of the old days, 
as compared with the present. But there has been 
so much contributed to this question and there exists 
such a wide divergence of opinion concerning it — 
the decline of chivalry — that the author would prefer 
to avoid entering the controversv- 



161 



Old School Days. 



CHAPTER XL 

H General Retrospection. 

When the man of mature age looks back, through 
the long vista of the past, and in silent retrospection, 
lives over again those by-gone days of childhood, he 
is pretty sure to fall into an abstruse channel of specu- 
lation and comparison of the outcome — the successes 
and failures of those among whom he grew up to 
the estate of manhood. He goes back into this remote 
region, mental and material, that is entirely out of the 
track of worldly ambition, and looks upon the expanse of 
years spread out in one vast panorama before him. 
He sees this, that and the other schoolmate ripening in 
wisdom, and becoming great men. One achieves dis- 
tinction in the pulpit, another is a famous lawyer, 
another wears the chaplet of a military chieftain, an- 
other is a distinguished physician, and still another is a 
governor or a cabinet minister. He likes to see them 
rise and gazes with admiration upon every herald of 
their exploits and genius in the newspapers. In a 
measure, he feels that he was, in some vague way, an as- 
sistant to the architecture of their good fortunes, because 
his life was so intimately blended with theirs in those 
far-away days of boy life. He remembers, and now 

162 



A General Retrospection. 

feels an inward pride in the fact, that in school and 
college competitions with them, he did not come off 
second best. He is much struck and impressed at 
finding this one, whom he remembers as an unmiti- 
gated dunce, getting on very respectably in life ; he 
recalls how, at school, he used to woncler whether the 
difference between the clever boys and the "boobies," 
would show, later on, the same gulf as was then mani- 
fest in their relative positions. But all these doubts 
and speculations are largely solved now, as he looks 
out over the world and its activities. In some in- 
stances, strange as it may seem, the "booby" has far 
outstripped his more clever companions of school days, 
in the battle they have mutually entered ; the shy 
and reserved boy, upon whom his bolder playmates 
imposed, has forged ahead to fame and fortune ; the 
blubbering "Cissy-boy" and even the poor ostracized 
"greeny," have long since emerged from the common- 
place and become successes as merchants and profes- 
sional men. All along the line are surprises of which 
there was not even the remotest hint in the early days 
of boyhood. 

To the student of human life, as well as all others, 
this is a sort of unsolved riddle, which displays such 
contradictions as to be subject to no ordinary methods 
of analysis. Still, it is possible to find at least a partial 
explanation in the dormant qualities and latent ener- 
gies of every human life. It is what might be prop- 
erly styled the "undiscovered countries" in ourselves. 
And this view of the subject suggests some interest- 

163 



Old School Days. 

ing analogies, which would not be out of place in this 
retrospective review. 

There are no midsummer dreams more pleasurable 
than those which thickly throng upon the fancy, 
when, in the quiet of one's library, he turns over the 
leaves of those ancient historians, philosophers and 
geographers who had pushed their theories to the ut- 
most verge to which inquiry had dared to extend her 
power. There could be observed, in tracing the 
bounds of the then known world, significant blank 
spaces lettered "terra incognita." How full of sug- 
gestion, to the fertile imagination, must they have 
been in those far-off days when human enterprise had 
still before it such wide fields of labor. In this spot, 
More could plant "Utopia" ; over there, in that blank 
was room and to spare for Prospero's enchanted 
region ; here, in this one was space for Bacon's "New 
Atalantis" ; while all about was an amplitude of un- 
discovered country for Cathays innumerable, as well 
as for El Doradoes and Hesperides unbounded. But 
it so happens that the world is now parcelled out, 
with a topographer's particularity and our maps have 
long since ceased to gape with those delicious voids 
which the mind seized upon so readily and made its 
own. Yet, there are other "undiscovered countries," 
which will exist for human speculation and perplex- 
ity as long as the world endures. One may not believe 
wxth the cynic that in every man lurks some thing 
or thought of evil ; some wickedness so monstrous 
that if it were revealed, even his nearest and dearest 

164 



A General Retrospection. 

friends would learn to hate him. Rather let us con- 
template the contrary — that an illimitable fund of dor- 
m mt good is hidden away in this secret storehouse — 
qualities and abilities undreamed of — which are in 
reserve for the surprise and applause of his friends. 
In every county there may be a "village Hampden" — 
in every state a Hobson. As George Eliot says : 
"There is a great deal of unmapped country within 
us." Let us hope that the worst part of what is 
hidden will be dormant forever. We know for a 
certainty in glancing at history, that there was much 
in the glorious Shakespeare which even his most inti- 
mate associates never knew. It is equally so with 
great scientists, inventors and philanthropists, as well 
as with great naval and military captains. It is 
prominent in all the professional and business world 
and reaches down to its most commonplace ranks. 

Then again, there are the "undiscovered countries," 
toward which each of us reaches his unavailing hands 
— the dreams we have never realized, the hopes we 
have never fulfilled, the ambitions we have never sat- 
i:-fied. We grope about blindly, conscious that we 
have not found the key which would open the golden 
gates ; the clue that would lead us to the goal for 
which we are in search We find ourselves so fettered 
by circumstances that we cannot plunge blithely into 
the freedom of our will and wishes. We have a sense 
of some capacities in us that have never been de- 
veloped ; and hence it happens that in the map of our 
lives yawns a dreary gap — a terra incognita — which 

165 



Old School Days. 

we have neither the time nor opportunity to fill up. 
I once knew a man with a strong taste and talent for 
chemical science; but his duties as a bread-winner so 
hampered him that he never found the means of cul- 
tivating his life's ideal. It was almost pitiful to hear 
him promising that, by and by, he would give up 
the work he disliked (but to which he was bound by 
the iron cord of circumstances) and employ his happy 
leisure in the pursuits of the laboratory. It was not 
to be, for he died without setting his foot within the 
"undiscovered country" to which his aspirations had 
ever pointed. I know another man, now hedged about 
by unfortunate circumstances, who has a wonderful 
predilection for experimental science, and who would 
undoubtedly accomplish much in that field if his en- 
vironments were different. Timid, retiring and re- 
served by nature — a simple breath of ridicule was 
enough, at one time, to cast a shadow upon his life — 
while the careless world only gives him the passing 
thought of a "crank." Thus the loftier and purer side 
of his intellect and character remains for us always a 
terra incognita. It was this same environment of 
genius which Dante called "a voiceless thought, 
sheathed like a sword," and as Archbishop Trench puts 
it: 

"When thou art fain to trace a map of thine own heart, 
As undiscovered land, set down the largest part." 

But, fortunately for the world and many of its 
166 



A General Retrospection. 

modest children, there are some to whom fortuitous 
circumstance has granted a deep knowledge of self, 
and has allowed them to tear away the veil of Isis, 
and bring forth the hidden talents — the dormant quali- 
ties and energies to which we have referred. 

In looking back over the career of that other division 
of our boyhood friends, who. have not been success- 
ful, and who are probably struggling manfully to 
"keep the wolf from the door," we are furnished with 
one of the most pathetic phases of life. We omi^. 
those whose evil ways, profligate habits, intemperate 
appetites, shiftless proclivities and general indolence, 
have brought the legitimate consequences of their 
folly. They have been their own enemies, and the 
architects of their own downfall. But we re- 
fer to that class, who, for the certain amount 
of health or disease they enjoy or suffer, 
are not responsible. From the cradle they have been 
hampered in the struggle of existence with that signifi- 
cant calamity which we phrase "bad constitution," 
graven deeply in their frames and written on the 
muscles, nerves and brain. They have not started life 
with a clean bill of health and are consequently sorely 
handicapped in the battle, and through no fault of their 
own. While it is true that environment can partially 
atone for this disparity, that consolation is uncertain 
and only comes through the fickleness of blind chance 
and impious fate. Therefore, we say there is a pathos 
in such a case, which arouses every emotion of pity in 
our nature, because, to him only can come, with prac- 

167 



Old School Days. 

tical force, the problem, Is life worth living? A man 
bravely silent, under such a sorrow, and manfully fac- 
ing the inevitable, is a sight to command admiration. 
Such, however, has been our happy privilege, in one or 
two instances of these old schoolmates, who were so 
afflicted, that they might, like Cowper, have exclaimed : 
"I am like the infernal frog out of Acheron, covered 
with the ooze and mud of melancholy." Yet, it was 
not so with our afflicted friends, for their heroic 
struggles against adversity demonstrated that they 
acted upon the quaint advice of Rufus Choate: 
"When my constitution is gone, I live on the by-laws." 

But we can recall many other instances where the 
lot of our boyhood friends has been strikingly unequal, 
and which demonstrated that there was not even such 
a thing as equality in the family. Of two brothers 
I knew, for example, one was endowed with a splendid 
physique, with large powers of acquisition and execu- 
tive capacity, which fitted him for high position ; while 
the other brother was burdened with a feeble body, 
subject to pain, and a spirit nervous and retiring, that 
shut him in like a snail in its shell. Necessarily, it 
was impossible for these two brothers to enjoy an 
equal amount of happiness, or that their relative capac- 
ities should bring an equal amount of success. 

Still, life has many compensations, while physical 
infirmities and unfortunate circumstances have served 
in many cases to brace a man's courage for some 
signal enterprise. It was in blindness and solitude 
that Milton sought for the light that "shines inward," 

168 



A General Retrospection. 

so that he might see and tell things invisible to mortal 
sight ; it was in prison that Cervantes and Bunyan 
wrote their immortal books ; in gloom and obscurity, 
Cowper wrote his famous verse ; neither wounds nor 
bodily weakness lessened the courage of Nelson, and, 
while weighted terribly in the race, Dr. Johnson 
reached the goal in life. Probably the men who have 
taught the world most, are those who have suffered 
the most severely. And this same compensation seems 
to be a law of nature. Nobody wishes to be poor, 
and yet the poor man escapes a thousand worries and 
obligations that the claims of society exact from his 
richer neighbor. He does not have to go to dinner 
parties, or to give them ; he is not pestered with un- 
reasonable demands upon his purse, while the tax 
gatherer passes him by ; he does not suffer from the 
plague of servants, and is in no danger of lending 
money on bad securities. 

The part which woman has played in our lives, from 
boyhood to middle age, enriches retrospection with its 
most significant and charming pictures. Certainly no 
one in this hard and gritty age can wish to pose as a 
"man of sentiment," for what brought tears to the 
eyes of our grandparents, only makes us laugh. We 
prefer burlesque to tragedy. Still, there are times 
when the memory of the days between youth and 
middle age will raise ghosts that cannot be readily 
laid. It is strange to note how difficult a man finds 
it to realize the advance of age. It flashes upon him, 
however, sometimes with a vividness that is startling. 

169 



Old School Days. 

We may have had a passionate attachment in youth, 
which ended as so many early fancies do. For a 
time it seemed as though no earthly power could sever 
the attachment between lad and lass. Had they not 
made vows of eternal fidelity — defying fate, guardians 
and poverty — and how could love such as theirs ever 
fade? But it did fade after a few weeks or months 
of bliss, and twenty years — shall we say ? — have passed 
since the two parted. Then a chance meeting sud- 
denly brings the quondam lovers face to face — what 
a change the years have made ! Is that stout looking 
matron the same being as the fair, slim and graceful 
girl, whose soft eyes and winning smile once sufficed 
to vanquish a lover? That once immaculate brow, 
though still fair and open, is impressed with the mark 
of time's passing feet. The cheeks have lost their 
delicate curves, while she is rubicund, pendulous and 
many-fleshed. 

At the same time she gazes upon her old lover 
with something of the same sensation. Can that 
corpulent — almost flabby — man, now "bearded like a 
pard," and the lineaments of whose face show that 
all his soul is wrapt in the cares of money-getting — 
be the handsome and enthusiastic youth who had once 
filled her young girl's heart with dreams of unalloyed 
happiness ? 

But while the old Queen of Hearts may have 
dropped out of our lives, another empress, more glori- 
ous and lasting, has entered and possessed the heart. 
The now queen is not a fleeting fancy, like the old 

170 



A General Retrospection. 

one, which had, meteor-like, flashed across us, and 
then quickly disappeared in boundless space. She has 
come into our lives as a permanency — a helpmeet — 
to share all of its lights and shadows, and to invest 
it with a peculiar grace and tenderness it never knew 
before. She has created home, consecrated it with 
genuine happiness, and thrown over it an atmosphere 
of quiet and contentment that is everywhere an inex- 
haustible benediction. She is no extraordinary wom- 
an, and lays no claim to the power and force of 
genius. All of her intellectual vigor, culture, imagi- 
nation and passion are concentrated in aiding her hus- 
band in achieving whatever has been undertaken. 
And who can fully appreciate such immeasurable aid, 
which is daily giving forth such tangible results in 
the business and professional world? There is 
scarcely a department of human activity in which 
she is not the "power behind the throne." It is not 
intended by this assertion to enter into a discussion 
of that scholastic question as to the relative or com- 
parative mental power of men and women. We sup- 
pose it will be accepted, that women are not equal to 
men in many things ; and it is equally true of the 
converse. But experience shows that women are 
gifted with a quickness of analysis, a clearness of per- 
ception, unfailing good sense and a faculty of prompt 
decision, which make them invaluable as advisers. On 
the other hand, the cynic will smilingly protest that 
this is idealism, and that unhappy and disappointing 
alliances predominate. He will point out the social 

171 



Old School Days. 

unrest, the scandals and divorces which daily fill the 
public prints. Affliction, adversity, incompatibility, 
and many other things, have been the fruitful cause 
of these mesalliances, but, on the whole, happy mar- 
riages have certainly been the rule. I am, however, 
sadly reminded of the cynic's charge, when I recall 
a most unfortunate case, which I will here relate, sub- 
stituting fictitious names. 

Among my most intimate associates no one stood 
higher in my esteem than George Hartley. He was 
both my schoolmate and college chum, and the strong 
friendship which had bound us together in school 
days was continued and strengthened when we had 
left our alma inatcr and entered upon the sterner 
struggle of the battle of life. His inclinations early 
tended toward the legal profession, and being finely 
equipped with superior talent, commanding address, 
and rare gifts of oratory, he soon made his way into 
the front rank, and his advice and counsel were always 
in demand in important cases. 

It was when he had reached this state of a certain 
and a liberal income, and was upon the high road to 
fame and fortune, that the oft-deferred subject of 
matrimony came into his mind, and took sudden pos- 
session of his whole being. Despite his erudite powers 
in matters of law, he was more or less simple m 
affairs of sentiment, and was easily fascinated by out- 
ward charms, coupled with wit, vivacity and bril- 
liancy. In this delusion, however, he was by no 
means alone, as the majority of men display very 

172 



A General Retrospection. 

little practical sense in the all-important selection of a 
helpmeet, which is equally true of the opposite sex. 
Even the most sensible of men are swayed easily by 
the charms of a pretty face, and a woman of tact and 
discretion could capture, at will, the most difficult 
of them, if she really appreciated her powers. This 
fact is just as true now as it was in the early days 
of the world, and will so continue to the end of time. 

But George did the most natural thing in the world 
when he selected, from the large coterie of his ac- 
quaintances, one of the sweetest, prettiest and most 
accomplished young ladies of the smart set in which 
he moved. Lillian was the most popular beauty of 
a large and brilliant bevy of charming girls, and her 
train of admirers could be counted by the score, to the 
envy of her less fortunate sisters. In fact, her univer- 
sal popularity was one stimulus to the pressing suit 
of George, and when it became known that he had 
secured such a prize he was the subject of general 
congratulation. 

Yet the average judgment of the world, in affairs 
of this kind, is very unreliable, because it is super- 
ficial and thoughtless. It disregards all questions of 
the law of affinities and has no concern for the phi- 
losophy of fitness and compatibility. The same is 
true of one's friends, who are often the innocent 
cause of much of the marital unhappiness of those near- 
est and dearest to them, by stimulating and encourag- 
ing unfortunate alliances, without considering the 

173 



Old School Days. 

deeper conditions which go towards making ideal 
unions. 

But George and Lillian were married and made an 
extended European tour, returning after several 
months, with every outward appearance of the most 
supreme contentment and happiness. In the mean- 
time, I had left that locality and located in business 
in a distant state. I received occasional letters from 
my old-time friend, which were not such epistles as 
one would expect from a happy bridegroom. Finally, 
after a somewhat longer delay than usual, I was made 
very apprehensive for his state of mind and happiness 
by the reception of the following letter: 

"Dear Old Chum : I am married now, for some 
considerable time, and, for the life of me I don't 
know that I gladden or sorrow at the bargain. Nor 
is this quandary produced by any loss of those charms 
and graces which first attracted me to Lillian. On 
the contrary, they are measurably increased, and I 
suppose I should be the prouder of them. But the 
deuce of the business is, she is surrounded by a galaxy 
of beaux, whose attentions she, by no means, discour- 
ages, but to whom she is more complacent than to 
myself. In fact, I can scarcely return home from 
the office that I don't meet her with some spruce fel- 
low acquaintance, with whom she appears to be en- 
joying herself as well as she ever did in my own 
company. Indeed, she seems to be greatly flattered 
by these gallantries and attentions of other men — 

174 



A General Retrospection. 

decidedly more than I do. Furthermore, there is not 
an entertainment, a hop, a german, or a cotilHon, not 
a single one, that I am not compelled to attend with 
her, no matter how I may feel about it, and you know 
my prejudices against too much of this form of diver- 
sion for married people. Once there, I am left com- 
pletely to shift for myself, and get only an occasional 
glimpse of my wife, as she is whirled around, in the 
embrace of different fellows, until sheer exhaustion 
demands a rest. 

"Old chum, I may be jealous or I may be a 
'durned' fool, to allow such matters to have such a 
powerful influence with me, but these things are, 
nevertheless, robbing me of all peace of mind, and I 
am just as miserable and unhappy as one well can 
be. If I gently chide her, or attempt to forbid her 
humors about young men, she becomes angry and 
hysterical, says I am a jealous brute, talks of her 
virtue and all that sort of thing. And, indeed, I feel 
like a wretched brute, after she has delivered herself 
of one of these spasms of indignation and winds up in 
a paroxysm of sobs. Of course, I abandon all fur- 
ther rebuke, kick myself for having started it, and 
wind up with the most abject apologies for my mis- 
conduct and 'brutality' — but what am I to do? If I 
calmly permit the matter to rest, without protest, the 
license will bring more discomfort and trouble, while 
I will continue to be as uneasy and miserable as a 
man of honor can well afford to be. 

"Yours, etc., George." 

175 



Old School Days. 

I read and re-read this letter carefully, and after 
long pondering over its contents, I laid it aside and 
fell into something of a philosophic mood. It was 
the reflex of so many similar cases that rapidly trooped 
into memory, and all were generally outside the pale 
of friendly interference. Man, in his very essence, 
is selfish, even about his griefs and disappointments. 
He will often court your opinion and advice, but, 
down deep in his heart he has formulated the answer 
he would have you make, and no other will suit him. 
He will severely criticize those near and dear to him, 
ostensibly reaching out for your approval, but, if you 
are wise, you will evade such approbations and keep 
your opinion to yourself. All of these things I fully 
weighed before venturing a reply upon the delicate 
questions and troubles enumerated in my friend's 
letter. But the possession of his entire confidence 
was one of the cherished things of our long friendship, 
and I mentally ruled it cowardice for me to hesitate 
longer to speak out plainly and to give the subject 
all the philosophy I could bring to bear upon it. 
My reply was thoughtful, earnest and serious, because 
I was thoroughly familiar with the depths of his 
nature and fully realized that he was approaching a 
crisis in his married life that was likely to precipitate 
life-long unhappiness, unless something was done to 
stem it. 

In due course my letter reached him, and it was 
several weeks before I received a reply, briefly thank- 
ing me for my friendly interest, while, at the same 

176 



A General Retrospection 

time, suggesting that the affair was now beyond con- 
trol, and that heaven only knew what would be the 
outcome. That some grievous circumstance had in- 
tervened I was quite sure, though I have never been 
able to determine what it was. My knowledge of his 
intense pride and high sense of honor, coupled with 
the ordeal through which I knew he was passing, sug- 
gested, as if by inspiration, that he was meditating 
some desperate alternative. Believing that I had great 
influence with him, I resolved to take the first train 
south, to have a personal conference, and to that end 
made every preparation to leave the following morn- 
ing. 

That night a telegram reached me bearing briefly 
the fatal tidings that George had committed suicide. 

In the course of these memoirs I have had much to 
say concerning the terrors and superstitions of boy- 
hood, as such things are deeply interwoven in the 
career of youth. Of course, all sensible people have 
set down as vagaries and halhicinations everything 
connected with haunts and ghosts, while at the same 
time something will now and then occur which will 
leave us in a very puzzled frame of mind. While 
science can generally explain everything that may ap- 
pear unusual or occult, I will here relate an experi- 
ence, certainly extraordinary, which, to this day, fails 
of any clear explanation. That it can and will be 
explained, in some natural way, I have no doubt, but 
I give the facts just as they occurred. 

177 



Old School Days. 

Several years ago, after many previous postpone- 
ments, I made a visit to an old college chum in a dis- 
tant state. Though formerly one of the most jovial 
and companionable fellows, he had degenerated into 
a recluse, with just a slight taint of the misanthrope. 
This was evidenced by the selection and surroundings 
of his home, its weird furnishings and the general 
solitariness of everything pertaining to it. His house 
was located in a more or less sombre stretch of country, 
about three miles from the railroad station, and ap- 
proached from the highway through a long avenue 
of gloomy, sentinel pines. Here, with no other com- 
panions than two old family servants, he had passed 
eight or ten years of voluntary exile, as the indulgent 
lord and master of an immense landed estate. He 
greeted me with some of the old-time affability and 
geniality, but I could see, at a glance, that great changes 
had been wrought in his personal appearance, while 
his strained effort to keep up a flow of spirits indicated 
that something out of the ordinary was haunting the 
mind and refusing submission to the will. 

My first impression was that his secluded, hermit 
life had gradually sapped his flow of good humor and 
left him a prey to the morbid melancholy thoughts 
which occasionally seized him in the old college days. 

But, as we talked over those quondam times and 
recounted our numerous escapades together, he seemed 
to gradually and imperceptibly fall back into his old 
self, utterly oblivious of the present. It was near 
midnight when we bade each other good-night, and I 

178 



A General Retrospection. 

was conducted to my room on an upper floor. The 
weariness of a long journey had not been reaHzed until 
now, when the sight of a large and inviting bed sug- 
gested glorious visions of a long, sweet rest, which 
was never to be mine for that night. I had partly 
disrobed and my mind continued much absorbed and 
perturbed by the strange changes that I had observed 
in my friend, when I was almost startled by his noise- 
lessly opening the door of my chamber and entering. 
With apologies for the seeming disturbance, he said 
that he had neglected to tell me that I should disre- 
gard any noises that might be created below, during 
the night, as one of the servants was unfortunately 
addicted to somnambulism. With this brief speech 
and injunction he seemed to hurriedly leave the room, 
as I laughingly told him it would require a cannon 
to wake me after I was once in the arms of Morpheus. 
On further reflection, however, I recalled how he had 
so quickly left the room, evidently desirous that I 
should make no further enquiries. This fact, in con- 
nection with other singular surrounding circumstances 
did not reassure me, and I felt sure that some mys- 
tery was surely overshadowing the house. By the 
time I had finished undressing, locked the door, and 
put the light out, I had forgotten my vision of rest 
and found myself in an unusual state of wakefulness. 
I heard distinctly the closing and locking of a door 
below, and then all was silence. 

Under such conditions, with the mind perfectly 
clear and each sense painfully acute, it is curious how 

179 



Old School Days. 

sounds will emerge out of the silence, sounds, which, 
in the day time, would be passed over and altogether 
neglected. Listening attentively I could hear, clear 
and shrill, the distant scream of a locomotive as it 
entered the town. As it stopped, I could but think 
of the bustle and commotion at the little station, and 
how all was still and motionless in my room. When it 
was gone I remained quiet for a long time, marvelling, 
and somewhat annoyed at this sleeplessness, and won- 
dering whether I had better not get up, strike a light 
and read. But it was a clear, lucid sleeplessness, 
void of any improper balance between mind and body. 

The tick of my watch became painfully apparent, as 
it was an invariable custom to place it under my 
head at night. I heard its muffled, throbbing sensa- 
tion under the pillow, until I could stand it no longer 
and got Up and put it in a drawer. I had barely 
settled back upon the bed and my thoughts resumed 
their excited trend of expectancy and foreboding, 
when a loud, piercing shriek burst upon the stillness, 
and reverberated throughout the building. In a mo- 
ment I was out of bed, and in the succeeding excite- 
ment I hardly knew what I did, until I found myself 
at the door of my friend's room. 

Without further ceremony I turned the knob, but 
found the door locked on the inside. In my excite- 
ment I attempted to force it, and, defeated in this, I 
called out to him to open and admit me. For the 
only answer I heard a deep, prolonged groan, as 
though he was in the throes of the most intense agony. 

m 



A General Retrospection. 

Withoitt hesitation, I threw myself against the door 
with such force that it was ahiiost torn from its hinges, 
and flew inward against a dressing case with such 
energy that its panels burst out. By the dim light of 
a lamp, turned low on the hearth, I saw that the 
violent commotion of my entrance had been unobserved 
by my friend, whose wild eyes were set upon the 
ceiling and each breath brought a most heartrending 
groan. 

Just at this moment, one of the old servants, aroused 
by my breaking into the room, appeared upon the 
threshold, exhibiting unusual terror. He recognized 
me at once. "In de name ob Gawd," he exclaimed, 
and as he glanced at his master his consternation was 
even greater, for he beheld him in a condition he had 
never seen before. We quickly turned up the lights, 
and, without further explanation, devoted ourselves 
to the strange, pallid form upon the bed. One glance 
more told us plainly that it was a case demanding 
immediate medical attention, and the servant was dis- 
patched posthaste for the doctor. As he lived but a 
short distance away, he quickly responded to the sum- 
mons, especially as he entertained a deep personal 
regard for my friend, and seemed familiar with the 
singular malady with which he was afflicted. At his 
gentle, but somewhat singular request, I left the room, 
with the understanding that I should be called when 
needed. 

I repaired to my chamber, dressed myself, and came 
down upon the portico to await developments, The 

181 



Old School Days. 

whole thing had burst upon me so suddenly (though 
not entirely without premonition) that I found myself 
very nearly unstrung. That unearthly shriek and the 
singular prostration and condition of my friend, fur- 
nished a thrilling, excited train of thought, which I must 
have indulged for some time, when I was again aroused 
by the good-natured old doctor beckoning me to join 
him in the yard. Day had fully dawned by this time, 
and the birds had started their orchestra in the wood- 
lands. The old physician led the way to a rustic seat 
down the avenue, and here we sat down and he dis- 
closed to me the outlines of the deep mystery which 
had led up to the exciting drama of the night. From 
my intimacy to his patient, and the actual part I had 
played in the matter, it was natural, he truly said, 
that I should be mystified and would seek some ex- 
planation. 

He then recounted a terrible tragedy, which had oc- 
curred in this house during the past generation, when 
the uncle of my friend, in a state of drunken debauch, 
had wilfully murdered his wife. Through the promi- 
nence of the family, the liberal use of money, and 
under a plea of emotional insanity, he had escaped 
the vengeance of the outraged law, but the punish- 
ment which seemed reserved by Providence was far 
more effective and terrible than any human law could 
have been. Though the immediate effect of his crime 
had caused a reformation in the habits of the uncle, 
his peace of mind was gone forever and a merciless 
conscience smote him with an unrelenting iron hand. 

182 



A General Retrospection. 

The last dying scream of the murdered wife is said 
to have continued to echo in the still watches of the 
night, while her spectral form, it was also positively 
stated, glided in and out of his chamber, with cease- 
less taunts and maledictions. Sleep became impos- 
sible, as the haunting vision was ever present, and by 
this avenging process of mental torture and ceaseless 
terror, his mind soon became unbalanced and he ended 
his days in a madhouse. 

My friend, the inheritor of his uncle's estates, had 
scouted the idea of the haunted house and refused to 
believe that there could be such a moral end in nature. 
He contended that the Christian religion, respected 
and revered by the wisest of mankind, was an eternal 
protest against such ridiculous supernatural forces. 
But the unfortunate young man was doomed, so the 
old doctor said, to a fatal legacy of one of the ironies 
of Nature, which, instead of being a fond and indul- 
gent mother, became an avenger and a merciless tor- 
turer. And, as the ways of Providence are inscru- 
table, it must be accepted that the sins of his ancestors 
were visited upon his head. The seal of fate was 
set upon that house and the continued appearance of 
the wraith of the murdered woman, as well as her 
dying scream, indicated the perpetuity of the curse 
placed upon it. 

My friend lingered between life and death for 
months, and when he had recovered his full faculties and 
contemplated what he considered the actuality of the 
haunted house, his determined resolution was quick 

183 



Old School Days. 

and effectual. With his own hand he appHed the 
torch to it, and thus perished and forever disappeared 
the last vestige of "The Family Skeleton." 

I will add, in this connection and in explanation, so 
far as it goes, that I was subsequently informed that 
the old doctor was a spiritualist, and that he may have 
imbued my friend with that strange doctrine. That 
designing parties should have invented these weird 
sounds and representations to terrify an innocent 
mortal, seems too monstrous to believe, and yet I 
cannot banish such a thought from my mind. At any 
rate my complete confusion and bewilderment has 
reached out, in many ways and directions, to find a 
rational solution of this strange happening. 

But another strange feature of this singular occur- 
rence was my next meeting with this unfortunate 
friend, who had long ago left the country and had 
been given up as dead by his relations. Eighteen 
months ago business called me to the Republic of 
Venezuela. I had gone down into the interior, and, 
on the border of that vast, treeless plain, known as the 
Llanos, stopped one evening to lodge at a small village, 
several days' journey from the coast. The information 
being given that an American resided in the town, led us 
to visit him, and, to my utter amazement, it was this 
old-time friend, whose queer reception and general 
demeanor, indicated only too clearly that his mind 
was unbalanced upon any subject pertaining to the 
past and his native land. Otherwise, he was contented 
with a small business of shipping cacao, or chocolate 

184 



A General Retrospection. 

beans, and was highly esteemed by the people in the 
village. 

That the disappointment and wreck of this once 
brilliant life were solely the result of a voluntary iso- 
lation from the fellowship of convivial and congenial 
spirits, I could not doubt. He had become a veritable 
priest of despair, and, as I listened to his scorn, hate 
and misanthropy, I was forced to think that these 
were the last echoes of a dying soul. 

It is pleasing, however, to place in juxtaposition to 
this unfortunate man and former friend and school- 
mate, the life of another quondam collegemate, which 
was in every detail antipodal to the misanthrope. 
Though long afifliction had made him a prisoner to 
home, and shut out that broad view of the world 
afforded by good health, travel and recreation, he 
was never other than cheerful and hopeful and shed 
a radiance of pleasure upon all those who came in 
contact with him. Possessing a brilliant mind and 
facile pen he occasionally gave to the press articles 
upon living subjects which were always brimful of 
good nature and a perennial flow of wit and humor. 
Indeed, he made sport of the morbid-minded and lam- 
pooned those common platitudes as to the degeneracy 
of the age, with merciless severity. In a reply to Max 
Nordau, among other things, he said: 

"In the middle ages rapine and murder were the 
order of the day ; the upper crust of society was rep- 
resented by piratical kings and robber barons and even 
the Crusaders served the devil in God's name. Under 

185 



Old School Days. 

the rule of the Bourbons of France, as well as the 
Tudors and Stuarts in England, dissoluteness and 
debauchery were mere passing faults and the most 
ardent advocate of 'ye good old times' can scarcely 
have much to say in favor of a state of society, which 
made possible the proverb, 'It's a wise child that 
knows its own father.' " 

Reverting to the subject of superstition, from which 
we have slightly digressed, I have already referred 
to the belief of the southern negroes in various charms 
and miracles. It is proverbial that they are easily 
moved by agitation and especially when this is asso- 
ciated with some unusual manifestation of nature or 
of man. The knowledge of this fact has given rise 
to many impostors among that race who have not hesi- 
tated to play upon their credulity with a view to ex- 
torting the little earnings of the deluded devotees. 

As an illustration of how a simple delusion will 
work upon their superstitious natures, we will relate 
an occurrence of many years ago among the blacks 
of middle Georgia. A strange sound was heard to 
issue from the clouds and, while nothing could be seen 
to produce it, the tintinnabulation of what might have 
been a goblin bell was brought to their ears. This 
sound was heard daily, and at intervals, and the 
negro sorcerers and soothsayers found it an excellent 
opportunity to ply their wiles, interpreting the sound 
as the voice of God, betokening the approach of the 
millennium. For weeks these prophets kept them 
wrought up with the firm conviction that the end of 

186 



A General Retrospection. 

the world was at hand. The heavenly bell continued 
to ring — only in the day time — and had been heard at 
different points, over a wide area of country. 

On a certain day the faithful gathered at an old 
schoolhouse on a hill, when the far-away tinkle 
of the celestial bell was heard. It stimulated their 
prayers, and as the sound strangely grew nearer, 
their moans and lamentations went up in a higher key. 
There was a hard thump on the roof of the building, 
and the rattling of a clapper as the bell ceased to 
strike. Some of the more curious rushed outside to 
find that it was only a turkey buzzard, around whose 
neck some one had tied a bell, and in this way the 
momentous mystery of the celestial sounds was ex- 
plained. 

Another negro prophet sprang up, soon after this, 
claiming to be the licensed apostle of the Most High, 
and assuming to have a divine message which he was 
to communicate to the denizens of the earth. In his 
holy character he communed with the clouds, and 
could hear the voices of angels issuing therefrom. 
He was told, he said, to communicate with his fol- 
lowers, and to tell them that the day of resurrection 
was near at hand, and that within a few months the 
Archangel would come down upon a white steed to 
separate the just from the unjust — the sheep from the 
goats. Preposterous as were the professions of this 
extremely ignorant negro, he created a panic among 
the plantations south of Atlanta, and, for a consider- 
able time the zealots would do no work, but busied 

187 



Old School Days. 

themselves with preparations for the final coming of 
the Son of Man. He also professed to perform 
miracles through charms, and by this cunning ruse 
accomplished the death of one of his hated relatives, for 
the murder of whom he was subsequently arrested, tried 
and sent to the penitentiary. This broke up the fol- 
lowing he had established, and he was at once heartily 
denounced as an unmitigated impostor. Many seers 
and prophets of this type arose and flourished for a 
brief time, during our childhood, but they were in- 
variably exposed. 

About ten years ago there was added to this black 
theocracy of the South the stupendous pretensions of 
a negro woman, called "Scinda," who resided in the 
levee districts of Mississippi. Like all of her pred- 
ecessors, Scinda claimed to hold a divine message, 
which had been reposed in her by the angels as the 
accredited priestess, and the inspired leader among 
her people. She was cunning in her methods and 
when she failed to effect any miraculous cure she 
would declare that the subject or victim was so filled 
with evil that he did not possess any divine affinity 
that could be reached through God's message. It was 
subsequently ascertained also that she had an ex- 
tended knowledege of medicine, and while she pre- 
tended to use charms and herbs she shrewdly in- 
cluded those drugs known to be efficacious. Through 
these methods she gained fame as a performer of 
rriracles, while she was careful to make only such 
prophecies as could be easily modified to meet con- 

188 



A General Retrospection. 

tingencies. But she did prophesy that the world 
would surely come to an end on Christmas of 1887. 
This was considerably ahead, and gave her an oppor- 
tunity for quite a harvest of money, as her votaries 
increased with marvellous rapidity. No divine leader 
of that race ever before achieved such a following, 
as she also had some very wise and moral tenets in 
her faith, denouncing every class of evil and declared 
that every person should be punished in the other 
world, according to the degree of their sins and their 
behavior on earth. 

As the time for the fulfillment of her prophecy 
drew near, her empire widened and her strength 
waxed stronger, until the eventful day arrived and 
passed without that dreadful ending of the world. 
"Scinda" endeavored to hold her sceptre by some 
clover explanation, but her influence rapidly melted 
away and she finally disappeared. 

No superstition or religion of black sorcery has ever 
exhibited such vitality as that of Voudoo or Voodoo 
worship. As it was one of the most prominent super- 
stitions associated with the boyhood of the south — 
rehearsed perpetually to youth by the negroes — it de- 
serves more than passing notice in these memoirs. 

Voodooism has its origin from Africa, where ser- 
pent worship has been known as far back as the mythic 
epoch of man. It is mentioned by Pliny as in vogue 
among the African slaves that were brought to Rome, 
where the same rites and ceremonies are described as 
s.ill existing to this day. Its first home in the West- 

189 



Old School Days. 

em world was Hayti, from whence it spread over the 
West India islands of Porto Rico, Martinique and 
Cnba, finally entering Louisiana in the time of the 
French occupation. From there it gradually spread 
over the southern districts of Mississippi, Alabama, 
Georgia and South Carolina. In this translation of 
the peculiar cult, from its native home on the banks 
of the Congo, it has lost many of its characteristic 
features, but one, the worship of the serpent, has sur- 
vivied all of its migrations. 

The symbol of Voodooism is the python, but as 
that serpent is not available on the Western Continent, 
they have selected the most deadly and venomous of 
all our reptiles — the rattlesnake. The sacrifices to the 
serpent were formerly of the most heinous and re- 
volting character, including human beings — usually 
an infant about a year old — and the orgies were char- 
acterized by the most diabolical cannibalism. This 
is thought to still prevail in some of the remote dis- 
tricts of Hayti, while evidences of it are not wanting 
in some of the sequestered bayous of Louisiana. This 
feature of the ceremonies among the southern blacks 
is supplied by a dog, cock or a pig. 

The great secretiveness of the votaries of Voodoo 
has always proven a barrier to any clear and well de- 
fined information as to their strange rites and incan- 
tations, as it is extremely doubtful if any white man 
ever witnessed a genuine Voodoo celebration. What 
little that is known has been gleaned from old confi- 
dential negroes, by more or less accidental words 

190 



A General Retrospection. 

dropped to their most trusted "white people." As 
much as the negro loves money, no inducement has 
ever been sufficient to extort from him any of the 
secrets of this ancient worship. His lips are sealed 
as tightly as though life depended upon it, while it 
is not improbable that such is the fact, and that his life 
would pay the penalty for divulging such secrets. The 
following general facts, however, have been obtained: 
— that they are serpent worshippers and hold annual 
convocations on the 24th of June, which corresponds 
in the Anglican church to St. John's day ; that, dur- 
ing a period of several days they go through many 
strange rites, which include sacrifices, incantations and 
orgies ; that the queen and priestesses are old women, 
and no man holds authority in their seances ; 
that they claim a sort of apostolic succession for the 
Voodoo sorcerers, and that none others are possessed 
of witchcraft except a few neophytes yearly ordained; 
that the seeresses are familiar with some features of 
the occult sciences of mesmerism, hypnotism and 
mind reading, having some similarity to the devil- 
worship of the East ; that they are familiar with ihe 
medical virtues and deadly narcotic properties of cer- 
tain herbs and barks ; that the priestesses exercise un- 
bounded influence over their votaries, who will do 
their bidding if it should lead to the sacrifice of life; 
that the Evil Eye can be cast upon an ofifender and 
direful consequences will follow, unless the "conjur" 
is removed ; that this weird faith is embraced by 
twenty-five per cent, of the most ignorant negroes 

191 



Old School Days. 

from North Carolina to the Mexican border, while 
it exercises a most potent influence over their daily 
lives, for weal or woe. This idea of being "conjured" 
or placed under the vengeful spell of the Evil Eye 
can be encountered everywhere among the negroes, 
and no memories of boyhood are more vivid than 
those things rehearsed concerning this baneful in- 
fluence. The negroes displayed more terror of such 
an influence than they did of the lash they might re- 
ceive for disobedience, and from this has arisen the 
term "possessed," like those afflicted with devils in 
sacred writ. The most prominent example of this 
character, which has ever been published, comes from 
New Orleans. 

Oscar J. Dunn was the first lieutenant-governor of 
Louisiana, with Governor Warmoth as Chief Execu- 
tive in 1869. He was of pure negro blood, black as 
a crow, but well educated, for he was a Jamaican. 
It became rumored among the negro members of the 
Legislature, then sitting in New Orleans, that Dunn 
was "conjured," and would die on the night of the 
15th of that month. Dunn laughed it to scorn. 
"Why, you don't think that I believe in such super- 
stitions as this?" he said to some friends who wanted 
Maria Levaux, the greatest Voodoo queen of her time, 
consulted. Dunn was a man of powerful frame, about 
forty years old. His friends became more uneasy as the 
middle of the month drew nigh. On the fatal night 
three of them insisted upon sleeping in the room with 
him. He appreciated the kindly solicitude, but said 

192 



A General Retrospection. 

it was needless. They remained with him until quite 
midnight, and then escorted him home. Adjoining 
his sleeping-room was another, the two connecting by 
folding doors. In this room was a bed. The friend 
who was most anxious, said, "I will sleep here if you 
will let me." "Certainly," Dunn responded, "I will 
be glad to have you." 

They went to bed. It was then almost one o'clock. 
The friend had just fallen into a sound sleep when 
he was startled by what he thought was a shout from 
Dunn. He sprang up in time to hear him groan 
heavily. Badly scared, he lighted the gas in both 
rooms and went to Dunn's bed. He was dead. His 
face was distorted, and a hand was bleeding. There 
was nothing upon which it could have been struck to 
cause a wound. 

The death was a profound sensation. Two of the 
very first physicians (one had been medical director 
on the staff of General Beauregard during the war) ex- 
amined the dead man. They found the brain normal, 
no sign of apoplexy or heart disease. They would 
never say — if they knew — of what strange stroke 
this man died. Under the bolster, beneath the pillow 
on which Dunn had been sleeping for six months, 
the terrified negroes found a little image of wax, 
with a pin stuck through the head and another 
through the body, and on the breast was a strip of 
paper on which was written in a very fine, faint 
hand, in French, the words, "O. J. Dunn will surely 
die on the night of the 15th." 

193 



Old School Days. 

The mystery of his death was never solved. Voo- 
dooism? Quien sabe? Who can tell what it is? 

With apologies for this extended dissertation upon 
Voodooism, we would interpose the excuse that it is a 
cult without a written history and being so closely 
allied with boy life, it is a system of faith not un- 
worthy the attention given to it. 

But we pass on to another and altogether different 
subject — social life. The society of ante-bellum days 
in the South was constructed upon a more or less 
liberal basis, and was less hampered by those griefs 
and grievances which characterize it nowadays. I will 
not attempt to speak for those aristocratic circles, in 
certain populous centers, which were noted for their 
exclusiveness, and whose system of caste was based 
upon blood. This may be defended and justified by 
its votaries, but it did not represent the true social 
status in a general sense of that period. The society 
of old school days was less of a wild flurry at imita- 
tion, or the frantic effort to excel in any expensive 
entertainment or other diversion of social life. The 
glory and dream of that old period seemed to be an 
effort to rather appear unostentatious, and if rivalry 
existed it was in vieing with each other for a more 
wholesome welcome and unbounded hospitality. Out 
of the fleeting panorama of the past, but few scenes 
are more indelibly perfect in memory than those 
gatherings, especially during the holiday season, when 
old and young had met for a jolly winter evening. 
Fires blazed merrily in every grate, or from behind 

194 



A General Retrospection. 

huge polished brass firedogs, where there was a des- 
ultory cracking and spluttering of hickory logs; he 
halls and rooms were aglow with lights from great 
sperm-oil lamps, supported by shining candelabra, or 
great silver and brass candlesticks ; negro servants, 
dressed daintily and appropriately in linsey frocks, 
white aprons and embroidered kerchiefs, passed among 
the throng, with waiters of eggnog, syllabub, zephyr- 
wafers and assorted cake ; the host, with alternating 
groups of the male guests, repaired anon to the wine 
closet, where many choice brands were to be had, to 
warm the soul and increase the flow of convivial 
spirits ; a string band, composed of Ethiopians, oc- 
cupied the end of the hall, which discoursed many 
of the airs prevalent in those days, and varied with 
vocal selections, in which the real darkey excels all 
of his white imitators on the minstrel stage. 

One room would be devoted to the younger set, 
watched over by their dusky guardians, where many 
parlor games would be enacted, such as "blind man's 
bluff," "consequences," "forfeits," "snip-snap- 
snorum," and various other innocent games peculiar 
to that time. Another room — usually the large and 
spacious dining room — was prepared for the older 
guests, where dancing was the order and which was 
generally opened with a cotillion and closed with the 
majestic and inspiring Virginia reel. These social 
gatherings of the long ago enforced no strict rules 
as to the character of evening dress, though the ladies 
were always attired in their prettiest silks and the 

195 



Old School Days. 

gentlemen in their best broadcloth. It was the cus- 
tom, when the guest were ready to depart and brave 
the wintry night, to put into each carriage a heated 
brick, to keep warm the dainty feet, which were only 
encased in thin white slippers. The gentlemen, es- 
pecially those who were not escorting the ladies, 
adopted other means — usually of a liquid character — 
to ward off the evils that might otherwise accrue from 
exposure in the rigorous night air. 

While these things were transpiring another soiree 
or reception was being held in the kitchen, presided 
over by "Black Mammy," in which all of the wait- 
resses, nurses, carriage-drivers and body servants were 
regaling themselves with the usual large surplus of 
dainties and drinks that had not been consumed at 
the "whi' folks" table. There were "young bloods" 
in those days, who possessed all of the frailties, follies 
and vices of their modern brothers, but that in- 
glorious habit of "getting full" was indulged at long 
range — scrupulously remote — from any of the female 
sex, as the penalty was severe. One misstep, by ab- 
ject atonement, might be condoned, but a second 
offense was almost sure to lead to ostracism. Scandal 
was treated with utmost seriousness, and an investi- 
gation would promptly trace out the source from 
whence it originated, and the result was not infre- 
quently a meeting on the field of honor. As a result 
there was a more guarded use of words in reference 
to the fair sex, while their good names were exempt 
from those contemptible and cowardly insinuations 

196 



A General Retrospection 

which are too frequently tolerated in the modern 
days. This is intended as no invidious comparison, 
because that period of our national life was largely 
a sentimental one, when chivalrous deeds were sub- 
limated above everything, and the "Code" was a diver- 
sion which possessed many peculiar charms. The age 
was also sentimental, and though a great national evil 
was eradicated, even the Civil war was the outcome 
of a mere sentiment, which swept over the country, 
and upset a nation. 

In those days we were told that for this and vari- 
ous other things we would enjoy the lasting grati- 
tude of posterity. Indeed, it is one of the happy diver- 
sions of nearly all ages and epochs to draw checks 
upon the bank of posterity. We pass on to them all 
of our unanswered questions, our unsolved problems, 
as well as our moral, social, religious and political diffi- 
culties. In fact, we dedicate to posterity all of the 
obstacles we cannot overcome and the perplexities 
through which we do not see our way. For that 
vague, indefinite and unknown coming race we, in turn, 
waged wars, founded colonies, explored Arctic wastes, 
invented the telegraph, caused social upheavels, laid 
Atlantic cables, expelled Mexican monarchies, en- 
forced the Monroe doctrine, and gave great impetus to 
the car of progress. In due course of time, we the chil- 
dren of another and past generation have become that 
posterity, to whom these legacies were bequeathed. 
What do we think of the legacies and how much 
gratitude have we supplied for the inheritance? 

197 



Old School Days. 

While thanking these ancestors for fighting the Civil 
war, we, their posterity, must foot the bills in the 
national debt and the pension rolls. And can we go 
down on our knees and thank our predecessors for 
having saddled upon us the "Negro Question," and 
the specious theories of socialism and anarchy? Have 
we not been compelled to rewrite their histories and 
to readjust their philosophical systems? On the 
whole, we cannot be expected to acknowledge our ob- 
ligations with unlimited or unmixed fervor. 

One of the greatest pleasures experienced by a 
traveller, as he makes his way through a new country, 
is to pause on the green summit of some lofty hill 
and retrace the windings of his previous course. He 
sees the tangled forest depths, through which he toiled 
with so much painful effort, and the leafy valley, 
where he lingered among the buds and blossoms and the 
warble of birds ; he follows the shining stream, which 
cheered him for many a league with the sparkle of 
its waters ; he recalls the thorny waste over which he 
dragged his bleeding feet ; he espies the bower, with 
its scented wreaths of trailing rose and woodbine, 
where he allowed himself a brief repose ; and he sums 
up his various experiences with a grateful sense that 
he is the better and the stronger for them, with a 
feeling that even those which seemed harshest and 
most austere have, by some strange alchemy, been 
converted into sweet felicities. The wounded feet 
have been healed ; the tired limbs have recovered their 
vigor; he remembers only the cool glades, and the 

198 



A General Retrospection. 

haunted avenues of the forest ; the thorn bushes of 
the wilderness have ceased to be a terror to him, while 
he still feels the freshness and balm of the breezes 
that blow across its open space ; his soul, once so small, 
has expanded until it is able to embrace the wide con- 
sciousness of all the magical region, through which 
he has steadily plodded ; its wonderful vision flits be- 
fore his eyes, its sound of music is in his ear, its 
mystery is in his blood. "This is life," he says to him- 
self, "and these are mine, while life is mine." 

In the same way, when we arrive at certain stages 
of our earthly pilgrimages, we find it good and use- 
ful to take a retrospect of the past and gaze at will 
through the long vista of far-off years. Thus we pass 
idly over the successes and wrecks of our lives. Like 
Bunyan's pilgrim, as we go forward, we leave so much 
of our burden behind us that our step grows lighter, as 
the road lengthens. The years have brought with them 
many failures and disappointments, many moods of 
anguish and bitterness, many betrayals and deceits. 
But, from the vantage ground afar off, we look back 
upon these disorders and irregularities of Nature with- 
out pain, as they narrow down to a space too small 
for measurement. The trouble, which cuts like a knife 
to-day, loses much of its edge within a week, and in 
six months is blunted quiet. The lava flood issues 
from the womb of the volcano, hissing and seething, 
a stream of molten fire; but before long it cools and 
hardens and covers the surface with fair vegetation 
and the smile of flowers. And, in like manner, over 

199 



Old School Days. 

the burning tracts of our past, as the fires of passion 
die out, verdure and blossoms grow and multiply 
until we can see but the faintest signs of what once 
has been, when, in later years, we survey the prog- 
ress of our lives. 

There are valleys of shadows, no doubt, but it is 
the sunlit hill-tops that catch the gaze and carry us 
straight back into those joyful moods, when we stared 
at an imaginary world — at the golden towers and 
shining battlements of El Dorado, not knowing that 
we were staring at a vision of our own ereation. But 
it was excellent to have such dreams, and a still more 
excellent thing that we are able to recall them. I do 
not doubt that Moses, on the summit of Pisgah, turned 
awhile from the vision of the Promised Land, to re- 
trace the scene of his wanderings with the Children of 
Israel, and gratefully praise heaven for the gifts of 
manna and the quail. Thus tenderly does God treat 
us when, as the svm goes down, we halt in our life 
march, and turning Eastward, wistfully eye the route 
we have travelled over, peer through the gathering 
mists and behold divine love brooding over those far- 
off years of "Old School Days." 



200 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

CHAPTER XIL 

Old Field ScDools of Georgia. 

The following excerpts arc taken from a pamphlet 
compiled by Col. Richard Malcolm Johnston, and 
issued in 1896, by the United States Bureau of Edu- 
cation. I was unfamiliar with the existence of such 
a publication until my own facts had been gathered and 
typewritten. The data collected by Colonel Johnston, 
however, is so interesting and comprehensive, as well 
as in line with my own memoirs, that the following 
extracts will be found appropriate and readable. It is 
proper to say, however, that the period described by 
Colonel Johnston antedates the epoch comprehended in 
my own work, and, consequently, there are many 
material dififerences in the conditions and boyhood of 
the two epochs. However, the scholarly compilation 
of "Old Field Schools" furnishes many analogous and 
similar episodes to the present memoirs, and, with 
apologies to the distinguished Georgian, we will incor- 
porate into the close of our work many extracts from 
his pamphlet. 

ADMIXTURE OF CLASSES. 

Man cannot live alone. Even Timon of Athens 
201 



Old School Days. 

must occasionally go away from home in order to 
find an audience, to make known the contempt he 
claimed to feel for mankind. Whatever the degrees 
of an individual's understanding and culture, if he can- 
not find his equals to associate with, he will be drawn 
to his neighbors, however far his inferiors in these 
gifts. And so, from the beginning, the two ranks 
of this rural region coalesced, a fact which, more than 
any other, contributed to make the state what it be- 
came by the period of 1861. In a community so con- 
stituted, whatever was marked in individualities, 
must be brought forth in neighborhood intercourse 
that was untrammeled, except by unwritten laws, in- 
stinctive in all minds. No man ever felt his freedom 
more heartily than the rustic of middle Georgia a cen- 
tury ago. His cultivated neighbor, away from con- 
venient proximity to his own peers, sought his society, 
made him his friend, often his confidant and adviser. 
He learned his speech and in time loved to speak it. 
Each imparted and received. Associations of this 
sort are regulated by influences which it is not well to 
resist. Among these, negro slavery exerted its own 
peculiar influence. The humblest white man could 
have no apprehension of falling upon any lower scale, 
therefore, his ambitions, whatever they might be, 
were unfettered. It was during that early period of 
fifty years ago that were developed those numerous 
striking individualities which afterwards became 
themes for the character-sketching done in that region 
more than in any other of like extent in the whole 

202 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

South. A section so fecund in elements contributing 
to prosperous, happy existence, was populated with 
much rapidity. Seventy years ago the voting popu- 
lation of some of those counties was far above what 
it is now, counting only the whites. Quick, reckless 
felling of forests, rushing, appalling, unskillful culti- 
vation of rolling lands, led to their speedy exhaustion. 
Those of the inhabitants most eager for the accumula- 
tion of riches and most adventurous of spirit, dispos- 
ing of their homesteads for small prices to those con- 
tent to remain, followed not far behind the Indians, 
whom they drove farther and farther west. 

To one who remembers the conditions of the former 
society it is pleasant to recall the neighborliness, the 
oft warm affectionateness, which, except among mean 
people (and these are in every community), generally 
obtained. Men of both ranks, none of whom were' 
very rich, and none poor, intermingled with little 
reserve. Not seldom they sat at one another's boards, 
watched at one another's suffering bedsides, helped to 
bury one another's dead, when tears and strengthen- 
ing words were alike grateful and consolatory. 

EARLY EDUCATIONAL CONDITIONS. 

It is probable that not one of these settlers had re- 
ceived an education, beyond what could be gotten at 
the country and village school, in the states from which 
they had immigrated. They were less informed in 
text books and other reading than were their parents 
203 



Old School Days. 

before the War of Independence. Differences in book 
knowledge, therefore, among those Georgians were 
less marked than those in any other particular, and 
these depended on the habits of vigorous, thoughtful 
minds, of endeavoring to supplement trifling school 
requirements with the study of the few standard books 
within their reach. 

If school keeping in rural districts, during colonial 
and revolutionary periods, was conducted within nar- 
row circumstances, it must be more so in new remote 
settlements. If there had been entirely competent 
teachers, boys, even girls, could not be spared from 
domestic work long enough to give — and that in inter- 
vals — more than two or three years' attendance at 
school ; for gentlewomen and their daughters, like the 
rest, cut and sewed upon garments made of flax, 
wool and cotton, produced, spun and woven at home, 
while their husbands and sons felled the woods, tended 
the fields and harvested the crops. In the most genteel 
families, along with proper morals, children learned 
good manners and were encouraged to read in the 
few choice books brought with them from the old 
homes. Some could recite from ancient English and 
Scotch ballads, learned by their parents in peaceful 
and less exigent conditions. But education in school 
books was made, using a homely phrase, to "shift" for 
itself. The ways in which this was done, if described 
with much circumstantiality, would make a long and 
somewhat unique record in the annals of Georgia's 
foretime. 

204 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

SCHOOLMASTERS. / ' 

To any middle-aged Georgian, the old field school- 
master of his childhood, as he now recalls him, seems 
to have been somewhat of a myth, or at least a relic of 
a long passed, decedent race, never existing except in 
a few individuals, unlike any others of human mould, 
appearing, during periods, in rural communities, 
bringing in a red-spotted bandana handkerchief his 
household goods, and in his tall, whitish-furred, long- 
experienced hat, a sheet of foolscap on which was set 
down what he called his "school articles." A rather 
reticent man was he to begin with, generally serious, 
sometimes even sad-looking, as if he had been a 
seeker of things occult and was not content with the 
results of his quest. Within some months, seldom 
completing the year, with the same bandana and hat, 
noiseless as he had come, he went his way. Generally 
he was unmarried, or, what was not so very far differ- 
ent, followed by a wife as unique-looking as himself, 
if possible some nearer a blank, who had never had 
the heart to increase the family any further. After 
his departure came on another, who might be larger and 
might be smaller, who might be fairer and might be 
browner, who might be more pronounced in manner 
and speech, and might be less, but who had the dis- 
tinctive marks that were worn by no other people 
under the sun. 

Now the idea that a native-born citizen, competent 
to instruct children, would have been content to under- 

205 



Old School Days. 

take such a work, was not entertained. Somehow, 
keeping a school was regarded as at the bottom on the 
hst of vocations, fit only for those who are not qualified 
for any other ; who, if thus qualified, would never 
think of thus degrading themselves, and who, in view 
of the poverty of repute attending this last resort for 
the exercise of manly endeavor, deemed it well to go 
away from the place that knew them, and set up among 
strangers. As soon as he became well known, it 
seemed expedient for him, like Joe, of "Tom All- 
Alones" in Dickens' "Bleak House," to "move on." 

SCHOOLHOUSES. 

A place was selected on the edge of a wood, 
and a field turned out to fallow, sufficiently central, 
hard by a spring of purest fresh water, a log house was 
put up, say 25 X 30 feet, with one door and a couple 
of windows and shelves, with benches along the un- 
ceiled walls, and the session began. Most families 
breakfasted about sunrise, and a brisk walk of three- 
quarters of an hour brought even the remotest dwellers 
to the early opening. The one who happened to reach 
the schoolhouse first on wintry mornings kindled a 
fire. This was before the date of Lucifer matches. 
In winter half burned logs were so disposed beneath 
ashes in the huge fireplaces as to preserve fire through 
the night, which was quickly rekindled by the aid of 
pine knots always on hand. To provide against fail- 
ure, the master and some of the larger boys carried 
206 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

a small piece of rotten wood — punk — obtained from 
a decayed oak, which, being held under a flint stone 
and struck with a blade of a steel knife, produced 
sparks, igniting the wood. There was seldom any 
suffering from cold. 

At noon a recess of two hours was allowed for 
dinner and sports. On days when the sun shone, the 
hour was made known by its reaching a mark on 
the floor near the door, or one of the window sills. 
In cloudy weather, it was guessed at. The idea of a 
schoolmaster owning a watch did not enter anybody's 
mind. When the day was done, dismissal was out 
and out. There was no keepings-in at noon or even- 
ing tide. Each day had its history and no more ; 
whatever was done, was done for all henceforth — reci- 
tations, good or bad — punishments, big or little — be- 
came things of the past, though their likes were sure 
to be enacted on every day thereafter. The master 
went silently into the house where he boarded, and the 
pupils, boys and girls, whipped and unwhipped, turn- 
ing their backs upon everything, journeyed leisurely 
along, boys anon rallying one another on the day's 
misadventures, personal and vicarious, and the girls 
behind laughing, occasionally lingering to gather and 
weave into nosegays, wild flowers, that, in all seasons, 
except the depth of winter, bordered their way along 
the roads and lanes. 

IN THE SCHOOLROOM. 

The fashion of studying aloud in schools, now so 
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Old School Days. 

curious to recall, did not produce the confusion which 
those not accustomed to it would suppose. Besides 
the natural desire to avoid punishment, rivalries were 
very often active, particularly among girls, and dur- 
ing the time devoted wholly to study, there were few 
who did not make reasonable effort to prepare for reci- 
tation. Spellers, readers, geographies, grammarians, 
getters-by-heart, all except cipherers, each in his or 
her own tongue and tone, raised to height sufficient to 
be clearly distinguished from others by individual ears, 
filled the room and several square rods of circumam- 
bient space outside. In this while, the master, deaf 
to the various multitudinous sounds, sat in his chair, 
sometimes watching for a silent tongue, at others, with 
lack-lustre eyes gazing through the door into the world 
beyond, perhaps musing when and where, if ever in 
his life, this toiling, fighting, migratory, isolated and 
about friendless career would find respite. 

Pupils stood while reciting. In spelling and read- 
ing, except with beginners, the cases were a few, sel- 
dom more than two or three in a study, arranged ac- 
cording to the age and degree of advancement, boys 
and girls mingling together. Dread of the ridicule 
attached to the foot of the class prompted every one 
to strive to avoid it. Many a blush painted the cheek 
and many a tear dimmed the eye of a girl while de- 
scending to this position of dishonor. The effect was 
benign. Good spelling, particularly among the girls, 
was the rule in nearly every school. Seldom did 
any among half a dozen in the lead make changes of 

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Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

place. These were mainly below, increasing in fre- 
quency towards the end. The head was lost gen- 
erally by accident, or momentary negligence of keep- 
ing on the alert, and it required like default to make 
another change in that quarter. 

In reading, excellence was on a scale very far lower. 
It was taught after a fashion solemn and formal, 
sometimes ludicrously so. With the master, the senti- 
ment seemed that after one rose from spelling and 
reading, one must be taught to feel that what was 
printed in books had acquired beyond spoken words, 
dignity to which readers must pay worshipful respect, 
pronouncing in measured, solemn flow. Many an old 
man, in after years, would rehearse in lengthened, 
sepulchral monotone his school rendering of those 
deeply affecting fables in Webster's Elementary Spell- 
ing Book : "The Partial Judge," "The Boy that Stole 
Apples," "Old Dog Tray," "The Country Maid and her 
Milk Pail," with illustrations, and contend these latter 
to be the last, highest, and forever hereafter unsur- 
passable pinnacle of pictorial art. 

When the boys and girls became old enough to 
take serious interest in the meaning of what they read 
they went to the few romances to be found here and 
there in the neighborhood, such as "The Children of 
the Abbey," "Mysteries of Udolpho," "Thaddeus of 
Warsaw," and "Scottish Chiefs." It was always 
pleasant to feel and afterwards to remember the im- 
pressions made upon young, simple minds by these 
books, then more than half believed to contain veri- 
209 



Old School Days. 

table chronicles of bravest men and loveliest women. 
They served purposes most benign. They largely con- 
tributed to the production of pure and generous as- 
pirations, to the development of good manhood and 
good womanhood, each sex endeavoring and hoping, 
if not to equal, at least to approximate exalted ideals, 
as near as was possible in existing limitations. In 
after years, elderly ladies, who had long ceased to 
read novels of any sort, when hearing young people 
praising later works of the kind, would never be 
made to believe that they could be compared favorably 
with those which, in their own young day, drew so 
many tears from their eyes, and prompted so fondly 
to duty. These benign influences did not cease with 
experience of labor and cares and vicissitudes ; they 
assisted throughout life, in imparting strength, 
steadfast in continuance at their work and to fortitude 
in the enduring of misfortune. 

MEMORIZING. 

One practice in these schools was so useful that, to 
the writer, it seems a misfortune that it did not ob- 
tain in academies, afterwards established, and that 
it was ever dropped from those of any grade. This 
was "getting-by-heart" and reciting a number of 
printed lines every day with, more often without, refer- 
ence to their meaning. Omission of this exercise is 
the more strange, since persons familiar with the 
Greeks and Romans know, that among them, it was 

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Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

regarded of first importance in the education of boys. 
The poet, Horace, in his "Ad Augustum," tells how 
he was beaten, when a little child, by his master, 
Orbilious Pupilus, for unsatisfactory rehearsal of a 
crude translation of the Odyssey by Livius Androni- 
cus. It appears afterwards that he was required to 
do the same with the Iliad. 

In the Old Field Schools, not a pupil who could read 
at all (except a cipherer advanced high enough to be re- 
garded above it) was excluded from the daily exercise. 
Perhaps non-understanding of the words had its own 
special advantage in quickening verbal memory and 
making it retentive. This was evinced in the Friday 
evening declamations, which it was understood that 
parents and other friends might attend when they 
chose. It was noteworthy how many boys learned 
to declaim well. Fortunate it was, perhaps, that 
the teacher was never a speaker himself, did not know 
the meaning of the word elocution and had never heard 
of the methods, since become common, of imparting 
special instruction in it. Boys had this advantage, 
that there were no models below which imitators are 
always apt to fall, by losing their own individuality, 
and finding it impossible to acquire another's. Stimu- 
lus to success was imparted by desire of praise and 
apprehension of ridicule from parents, friends, school- 
mates and most particularly, sweethearts. Youthful 
orators declaimed in couples or singly, in adjoining 
woods, selections from masterpieces found in speech 
books, notably one entitled the "Columbian Orator," 
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Old School Days. 

Practice upon practice enabled some lads, of unusually 
good understanding, sons of the better class, to ren- 
der these pieces with a grace and spirit intensely inter- 
esting, and were not infrequently the beginning of a 
career that made the young orators famous in after 
years. The idea of prompting a speaker never oc- 
curred to teacher or pupil. The habit of daily memo- 
rizing made such help needless. The dull tongue of 
a dull mind might draw words of passionate, fiery 
speech in such funeral style as to suggest the words 
of Theseus, at the grief of poor Pyramus, in "Midsum- 
mer Night's Dream." "This passion and the death 
of a dear friend would go near to make a man look 
sad." As it was, it became sometime needful in the 
audience to suppress loud laughter, with coughing and 
stuffing of mouths with handkerchiefs ; but the words, 
whether accurately pronounced or not,» were there, 
with every syllable which, when once learned, no more 
than his A B C's could be forgotten. The more one 
reflects upon what is known as the humorous in char- 
acter sketching, the more he is apt to refer it, in a 
large measure, to the innocent, often pathetic, careen- 
ings of narrow understandings to exhibit themselves 
beyond their limitations. In this region, not very long 
back, numbers of persons, men and women, when far 
advanced in age, could recite many of the pieces mem- 
orized in childhood. It was not very uncommon with 
college students, half a century ago, who, after writing 
a piece requiring half an hour for delivery, rendered 
it, with entire accuracy, after one reading, 

212 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 



DISCIPLINE. 

The young of that generation had been assiduously 
trained in one special virtue, deviating from whose 
observance had never a hope of toleration. That was 
absolute, unquestioning obedience to authority. Youth 
— youth advanced to nineteen or twenty — childhood, 
even infancy, learned from the beginning that dis- 
obedience had, and that it could have but one end — 
punishment, prompt and according to circumstances 
more or less condign. Delinquents knew that as sure 
as the morrow's sunrise would follow the sunset of 
to-day, punishment would succeed upon wanton dis- 
obedience. This punishment was corporal. It was 
not very often preceded nor accompanied by remon- 
stration. It did its work without hesitation ,and 
usually without anger; and the culprit, after inflic- 
tion, easily resumed the position he held before in 
parental affection. Parents, with few exceptions, 
seemed to regard corporal punishment as the only 
really effectual discipline for children, particularly for 
boys, as they did not hesitate to employ it whenever 
necessary, even up to incipient manhood. The idea, 
as all students in the history of mankind know, was 
not new. When and where it began in schools has 
not come down. We know that it was in at least one 
of the schools of Falerii, in the time of Camillus, 
centuries before Christ, when the boys, sons of the 
principal citizens, were led by their master to the be- 

213 



Old School Days. 

sieging general, who, in horror of the treachery, had 
him stripped, bound, and driven back by his pupils 
with rods such as he was accustomed to belabor their 
backs. The rod produces an effect which terminates 
in itself. A child is afraid of being whipped, and gets 
its task and there is an end of it. And so the school- 
master, seldom cruel by nature, to slenderly boys, and 
by too many odds and ends made up in his being to 
take actual delight in sight of pain, finding himself 
absolute monarch over a collection of unloving and 
unloyal subjects, during eight and ten hours a day, 
assured in his mind that the average boy would not 
perform his task without compulsion, kept himself 
supplied with seasoned hickory switches, and plied 
them with more or less rigor, and according to cir- 
cumstances. These circumstances were the varying 
conditions of his own temper, and what was ex- 
pected of him by parents and others in the world out- 
side. Not one of these was counted upon whipping 
of some sort with sufficient frequency and proper 
severity. The teacher's admonition about sparing the 
rod was accepted unanimously. Even a good boy, 
unless his body and legs were too little or too frail 
to endure it, must be whipped occasionally by way of 
prevention. Whipping was so good and precious a 
thing in itself that it would seem a hardship for even 
a good boy to be allowed to grow up without per- 
sonal experience of its benign efficiency. As for dis- 
grace in such punishments, in the case of boys, nobody 
dreamed that any sort attached to it, although girls 
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Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

felt it keenly. So resentment, in after years, seldom 
had place in men's recollection of schoolboy scenes. 
One case only used to be told. One day in the town 
of Milledgeville, Ga., a young man, upwards of thirty, 
while sitting on a sidewalk before a tavern, observed 
a strange looking, rather elderly gentleman passing 
by. Attracted by his looks and gait, after some mo- 
ments, he arose and followed him. Overtaking him, he 

asked him if his name was Nahum G , and if he 

ever kept a school in the county of Hancock. An- 
swer being in the affirmative: 

"In that case," said the youth, "I owe you a debt 
that has been standing ever since. My name is Sey- 
mour B . Fifteen years ago you whipped me for 

nothing, and I then took an oath that if I should live 
to be big enough, and meet you, I'd pay you back." 

Then he knocked him down. The gentleman, ris- 
ing, said : 

"Well, young man, you bear malice right along; 
are you satisfied?" 

"Entirely. You'll discharge me of the interest, I've 
no doubt. We are even. Good day." 

This case was an exceptional one, for this school 
discipline, however absurd and needlessly rigorous, 
was not often marked by cruelty or very much asperity 
of temper. Habit certainly obtunded the sympathy 
with which men might have been born, and so habit 
served to subdue much of the wrath liable to be in- 
dulged against daily derelictions, real and imaginary. 

215 



Old School Days. 



GAMES. 

Games in these schools were as hearty as simple. 
Girls, who always played apart, were fond of "jump- 
ing the rope," two holding the ends at a distance of 
about half its length, twirling it on high and beneath 
rapidly, while, as it struck the ground, one or more 
standing in the middle of the space between, leaped 
or hopped over. Victory was adjudged to her who 
did so oftenest without impeding the revolution. 

Colonel Johnston's memoirs then describe a number of 
games, peculiar to girls, such as "checks," "hopscotch," 
"blindfold," "chicamy-chicamy-craney-crow," "grind 
the bottle," or "puss in the corner," "prisoner's base," 
"hide-and-seek," "hide the switch," "old sister 
Phoebe," "Miley Bright," etc., of which we give the 
last one, known as "Williamson Trimbletoe." 

In this game the children each place the middle 
finger of one hand in a circle, upon some object, a 
block, if out of doors, on someone's knee if within, 
and one with her forefinger, beginning with her own 
middle finger, made the circle of touching all alter- 
nately in sequence, word by word, of the following 
rhyme : 

"Willianison Trimbletoe, 
He's a good Ushcrynan ; 
Catches his hens, 
And puts them in pens; 

216 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

Some lay eggs and some lay none, 

Wire, brier, limher-lock, 

Sits and sings 'til 12 o'clock; 

The clock run dozun. 

The mouse run 'roimd, 

0-u-t spells out — 

And begone." 

At that instant all except the one upon whose finger 
the last word fell, flew away — while she, personating 
"Williamson Trimbletoe," pursued the chickens, and, 
catching one by one, conveyed her to the pen. There 
was neither advantage or disadvantage to the one 
counting, as her own finger was in equal chance with 
the others in escaping the final word. 

boys' games. 

Ball being the favorite sport of boys of- the old time, 
quite a number of these are given, from which the 
following are selected : 

Town Ball. — Baseball has certainly carried batting, 
particularly catching, to a degree beyond any attained 
in old-time town ball ; but for heartiness in enjoy- 
ment of sport, and sport only, for healthfulness of 
activities, eager but never overstrained, for harmless- 
ness of accidents, impossible to become dangerous or 
seriously painful, for innocence in triumphs, in vic- 
tories, and moderation of discomfitures in defeats, the 
younger is far behind the one it supplanted. Parties 

217 



Old School Days. 

were never continuous in constituent elements. Two 
lads of equal or approximate fame, after casting at 
"cross and pile" (throwing three times on high a 
paddle with a cross on one side and guessing at the 
fall) for first choice, selection of followers was made 
alternately from oldest to the very youngest, so that 
those who were rivals to-day might be comrades to- 
morrow. Each had its ins directly following the other. 
Losses were incurred by catching from behind the 
ball missed by the striker, or in its flight upon the 
field from stroke of the paddle, or hitting the runner 
between the bases. An hour or so was generally 
sufficient for each party to enjoy its ins. This most 
exciting period in this game was when the ins were re- 
duced to one. In that emergency, if he could make 
as many as three rounds, he had liberty to call in one 
of his party. 

At such a time he called upon one to run in his 
place, while he stood and rested between the strokes. 
If the ball was caught in the air, or after the first 
rebound, or if the runner was hit with it on the 
circuit, or it was thrown and reached home before the 
circuit was completed, the striker went out. These 
contingencies had to be faced three times consecutively. 
It not infrequently occurred that a vigorous boy who 
used a round, heavy bat instead of the paddle, cast 
the ball with such momentum and in such unexpected 
direction as to achieve success. 

Bull Pen. — In this, a space about twenty yards 
square was chosen, into which one of the parties en- 

218 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

tered, while four of the others occupied the corners. 
The ball was thrown from one to another along the 
sides, and after the round was made and then passed 
from the first diagonally across to the third, and it was 
said to be "hot." These four, without any fixed order 
of sequence, but according to probable chances of suc- 
cess, cast the ball at those in the pen. If it missed 
it counted for naught ; if it hit, he and his comrades 
took to flight when an insider threw the ball at one 
of them ; if he hit, the latter was out and the one 
stricken restored. The art of throwing and dodging, 
rendered keen by much practice, made this game 
often intensely interesting, both to parties and be- 
holders, particularly so when the actors were reduced 
to two, one running from base to base, seeking oppor- 
tunities, and the other keeping it at as great a dis- 
tance as possible, the two procrastinating the result 
sometimes for half an hour. 

Socket. — This game was resorted to only occa- 
sionally, and when time was too short for the others. 
The ball was cast aloft, and on return, whoever got 
it threw it at his next neighbor, and this was repeated 
without cessation of any sort until all were weary. It 
was a sort of what was called a free fight, without 
rule or reckoning. 

The balls used in these games were of domestic 
make, with woolen threads, and tightly covered with 
buckskin. Lucky and envied was the boy who, from 
a worn rubber shoe, a thing seldom used, got cuttings 
to substitute for thread. This writer easily recalls 

219 



Old School Days. 

the first introduction oi those of solid rubber, gotten 
at the stores, but this was at the village academy to 
be referred to hereafter. 

(Other games are here described in detail, such as 
"cat," "jumping," "ring marbles," "knucks," "leap- 
frog," "tag," "clapping hands," "mumble-peg," 
"shinney" and "lap-jacket," nearly all of which are 
possessed of great tenacity of life, as they are still 
in vogue among boys of to-day.) 

DRESS. 

Dress of school children was almost wholly of home 
produce and make. Even daughters of people of the 
better sort, if occasionally they wore gowns of calico or 
gingham, usually went to school in those of 
domestic fabric so manufactured and made as to be 
hardy, if at all, less sightly. The arts of spinning, 
weaving and dyeing were carried to a high degree of 
culture. People of humble means did this sort them- 
selves, but those above them, while all the spinning, 
reeling and warping were done at home, had most 
of their weaving and dyeing done by professionals, 
some of whose work, yet preserved in old family chests, 
is surprisingly handsome. These professionals, 
styled weavers, were usually women, who, failing to 
marry while in their teens, devoted themselves to these 
arts and indulged, in high pride, in the number and 
urgency of demands made upon them throughout a 
large circle of acquaintances, to repair to their homes 
220 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

for jobs that impatiently awaited them. For these 
ladies lived not at home, except during brief intervals, 
while working for themselves and other members of 
their own families ; but in all seasons, spring, summer, 
fall and winter, sojourned at the houses of one and 
another of their neighbors. At the end of their prom- 
ised days they went on to other engagements. At 
these houses they were as welcome and as well treated 
as the governor's wife would have been. Prelimi- 
naries to enter into the out-houses, where the loom was 
kept, were precise and elaborate — selection of purest, 
best thread from hanks, mixings of indigo, walnut, 
madder and other dye stuffs, superintending dyeing 
pots, examinations of looms, sleighs, shuttles, spindles 
and reed spools, and readjusting of every blessed 
thing to absolute satisfaction. When the long warp 
was carefully wrapped around the beam, the sleighs 
and treadles properly adjusted, the conscious weaver 
mounted upon the stool as proudly as Queen Elizabeth 
bestrode her war steed on Tewksbury Plain. Many 
of the stripes woven by these experts were notably 
handsome and held their brightness through long 
periods of laundering. In gowns made by these, girls 
attended school ; underwear, of material raised at 
home, were, when well laundered, as nice as those 
woven in Northern looms. Boys' wear was of stouter 
materials, those for winter entirely of wool. The sum- 
mer wear received a bright yellow color from a dye 
made from copperas; the winter as fine a brown from the 
bark of a walnut, or woven from mixed threads of 

221 



Old School Days. 

white and dark wool. Little girls wore short frocks, 
with pantalets. Boys wore jackets, and trousers reach- 
ing to the feet. The present fashion of short trousers 
and stockings was not then known. Shoes, in almost 
all instances, except those for Sunday use, were made 
by the neighboring cobbler, of leather tanned at the 
village tanyard, from hides of beasts slain on the sev- 
eral plantations ; but, during six months, from April 
to November, all boys, without exception, went bare- 
footed. A boy was eager to doff his shoes in the 
spring and reluctant to resume them in the fall. This 
feeling prevailed, notwithstanding the "stumped toes," 
toe itchings and stone bruises, to which they were 
constantly liable and from which they frequently suf- 
fered. One element in their hostility to their use 
when not needed for protection in inclement weather, 
was that their shoes were made, each pair, on the 
same last. This was done for the sake of economy, 
as daily exchanging from left to right and from right 
to left secured longer duration and postponed the pleas- 
ure derived from the possession of a new pair. Sel- 
dom was a sock worn that was not knit at home from 
cotton or wool. The same was the case with most of 
the stockings. The girls wore, for head covering, what 
was afterwards known as sunbonnets, while the boys' 
hats, when there was no hatter in the neighborhood, 
were of woolen stuff and purchased at the store. 

EXHIBITIONS. 

Whenever a master remained until the end of the 
222 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

".pring term, it closed with an examination of the 
pupils on the last day, and what was called an "ex- 
hibition" at night. A rude platform was built in front 
of the door, and an arbor, covered with branches of 
trees, extended far out. Many hundreds attended the 
examinations, and many more the exhibition. To the 
latter, people came from all distances, up to ten and 
fifteen miles, often to the number of two or three 
thousand, and it was curious to see the interest taken 
in the exercises by persons by whom these 
were the only histrionic performances ever wit- 
nessed. A farce — say "Box and Cox," and one or 
two others of like character — was brought out, in a 
style that certainly was unique in the history of the 
stage. Women's parts, as in the old English drama, 
were taken by boys. The idea seemed to be that 
dresses, talk and movements should be as unnatural, 
as eccentric and as extravagant as possible. No occa- 
sion in that rural region brought more hearty enjoy- 
ment to the vast crowds assembled to honor it. 

HOLIDAYS. 

Holidays, not infrequent in the beginnmg, became 
less so with the lapse of time. In the early settlements 
of the country the religious sentiment, as is always 
the case in periods after a long war, except among 
women, was not high. Religious meeting-houses were 
few, and such as were had not many professing male 
members. Leading families, for the most part, partic- 
223 



Old School Days. 

ularly those from Virginia, had been members of the 
Episcopal Church, but these, for lack of bishop and 
clergymen, gradually fell away. Besides, this organi- 
zation being of British origin, suffered prejudice for 
that reason. Dancing and playing cards were not re- 
garded as immoral, and at evening parties of pleasure 
the former was freely practiced. These were frequent, 
because the settlers, despite their intense energy, were 
fully sensible of the value and importance of leisure 
and reunions. Presbyterians were almost none ; but 
Baptists and Methodist clergymen in time appeared, 
many of whom, though not liberally educated, were 
of much ability and labored with zeal and success in 
the cause of Christian revival. For a considerable time, 
respite, both for school children and negroes, was 
had on occasion of the most noted church festivals. 
But now, out of the joint hostility, feasts, as Easter, 
Whitsuntide, Ascension, Epiphany, began to be 
omitted, and, after some years, were dropped from 
the mind as they had ceased to be mentioned by the 
tongue, and, except by a few, their recurrence became 
unnoticed. 

Yet boys were unanimous against curtailment of 
what long prescription seemed to them ought to have 
rendered inviolate. Indulgence, gradually fallen into 
disuse outside, a master granted or not according to 
his notions or the will of parents in that behalf. He 
was suspected of having no special aversion to it, but 
it was important to the security of his position to ap- 
pear otherwise, profess reluctance, but at the same 

224 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

time intimate that he would be guided by circum- 
stances. A few, who, Hke Peggoty's husband, were 
"very near," grudged a day off from services for 
which they were paid a whole dollar a month, but the 
majority were indifferent, and so the schoolmaster 
gave it sometimes, and sometimes did not. Another 
ground for hesitation, with a leaning to the side of 
mercy, was revolving in his mind the degree of eager- 
ness on the part of his boy scholars in any special 
case, and that their strength and resolution to have 
it gratified, for there was one last resort for the brave 
and the desperate of which he well knew that, however 
resolute in spirit and able of body, it behooved to 
beware — the "turn outs." Some account of this ought 
not to be omitted from these sketches. 

TURN-OUTS. 

It would not be easy to find the original of what, in 
our day, was admitted to be fully excusable in school- 
boys, in pressing emergencies, to fall back upon an im- 
alienable reserved right of revolution, which, though 
brief, was decisive. People, old people, even "near 
people," did not gainsay exercise of this right, pro- 
vided it was availed of according to established usages 
and within set limitations. If the sentiment for a 
holiday was unanimous, or sufficiently approximate 
to unanimity, to discourage like toryism on the part 
of the minority, by appointment meeting at the school- 
house earlier than usual in the morning, barred the 

225 



Old School Days. 

building' ag^ainst the master's entrance. While no 
violence to his person was allowed, yet neither was he 
expected to be too damaging in his siege of property 
belonging to other people, who might not feel like 
putting in expensive repairs. Forcing a door lock or 
a window hook would be tolerated, but not breaking 
off things generally. Nor was unreasonably long 
time allowed the besieger to be wasted in endeavor. 
If he could overcome obstruction and effect entrance, 
the insurrection dissolved instantly and all went to 
the day's work with no other feeling than disappoint- 
ment at failure to compass an end entirely legitimate. 
In case he could not, holiday was granted with cheer- 
ful acquiescence. The most acceptable, indeed, the most 
common way of celebrating the occasion was with a 
treat to the master. A messenger was dispatched to 
the nearest place where could be gotten a jug of honest 
whiskey, which the master and the boys discussed. 
Afterwards they all went their several ways satisfied, 
the chief sometimes to exuberance with the last result 
of the day's doings. 

THE PASSING. 

The period, during which these primitive school- 
masters had sway, has been referred to always with 
peculiar interest, not only with those to whom it has 
come down by tradition, but especially among those 
who had experience of their doings of many kinds. 
There was something pathetic in the silence with which 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

they disappeared. Precisely whence they came, in the 
beginning, was not generally known, because seldom 
inquired about. The same with their going, in which 
was some shade of melancholy, as men thought of the 
slender chances before such wanderers of betterment 
in their conditions. Instances were almost none when 
their punishments, slight or rigorous, were remem- 
bered with resentment, and nobody, parent or pupil, 
but wished to them as much prosperity as might come 
within their reach, hardly hoping that it could be 
otherwise than extremely moderate. They seemed to 
illustrate Darwin's maxim of the survival of the fittest, 
and, like the weakest in lower animal existences, 
gradually subsided into extinction or undiscoverable 
and never-investigated retirement. This period of the 
pedagogy of that region passed not without leaving 
some salutary results. Any system, however crude, 
is better than no system. On the confines of exist- 
ences, so far different from each other, it was as in- 
dispensable as elsewhere to get some instruction, at 
least in elementary education. This was all that was 
at first sought. Neglect of it had been too long already 
amid the hardships of one long war and threatenings 
of another. To read, write, become familiar with ele- 
mentary rules in numbers, and get some acquaintance 
with forms of polite speech, these must be gotten after 
a fashion of some sort from the only persons who 
came forward to undertake the task of imparting. 
Weaklings as these generally were, need of subsistence 
which they were incompetent to obtain out of otlier 
227 



Old School Days. 

vocations, continuance of endeavors to enhance their 
fitness for this, their only calHng, with pressure from 
outside, begot in time a famiHarity with its duties 
which, if not satisfactory, was tolerable. The very 
crudeness habitually breaking out in those old school- 
houses, contrasted with those in which good sense, 
manners, and tastes were hereditary, served as a foil 
to make the latter more clearly recognized and more 
easily practiced. Superadded to this, the habit of en- 
tire obedience to authority however trifling dignrty, 
but taught to be of equal force with that by which it 
was delegated, tended strongly to the development of 
generous manhood, of neighborly kindness, of life- 
long friendship, of good citizenship. In a community 
situated far from cultured circles, activities sometimes 
too ardent, even degrees of lawlessness must exist. 
Among the systems pretending to repress them among 
the young, old field schools, despite their eccentrici- 
ties, made their one contribution, and it was respect- 
able. Their glaring imperfections intensified the 
sense of need of something better, and expedited 
their introduction. 

boys' field sports. 

Out of school, children whose parents were of what- 
ever degree of property holding, were indulged in 
with holidays of reasonable frequency. Almost any 
Saturday a boy with his fishing rod or with his gun 
and three or four hounds would meet his likes, simi- 
228 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

larly attended, and spend the day along the margin 
of a creek or within fields and woods. Lesser game, 
for a long time, continued plentiful, such as squirrels, 
rabbits, opossum, raccoons, quail, field larks and par- 
ticularly doves by the thousands. Any family, how- 
ever humble, would have been ashamed to be regarded 
so poor as not to afford to keep a gun and several hounds. 
Boys who were too young to handle guns, or follow 
hounds afar, used to resort to devices for taking 
birds. 

TRAPS. 

Perhaps never a Georgia boy, when come to seven or 
eight years, failed to have his one or more traps for 
catching birds. If he was lame or an invalid, a trap must 
be built for him and set somewhere in the meadow or 
near the woodside. It was constructed of laths of 
about three feet in length, for the four at the bottom, 
two inches wide, and a quarter of an inch thick, de- 
creasing in length for about ten inches. It was set 
by three sticks called triggers, one long and two short, 
forming, when joined, the figure four, placed hori- 
zontally with the stem at the bottom. Around this 
stem and beneath was strewn the bait, grains of corn, 
oats, meal, and wheat. A very light touch sprang the 
trigger and the trap came down. The captive was 
taken out at the top, by removal of the short laths in 
sufficient numbers to allow the insertion of the h-ind 
and arm. Results from such huntings were very 
229 



Old School Days. 

far from compensation for the work done in their 
behalf, but they were ever hopeful and expected to do 
better the next time. They were far more satisfactory, 
in the case of one bird in particular, the quail, called 
the "partridge." Going in flocks, ingenuity was called 
upon to frame a trap so as to get all, which would 
certainly follow the getting of the first. The trap for 
this purpose was called a "coup." It was similarly 
constructed, possibly somewhat heavier. Instead of 
triggers, its delusion was compassed by a tunnel, wide 
and horizontal at the opening, about a foot from the 
coup, and after reaching it, ascending and narrowing 
until it opened rather abruptly within, by an aperture 
of size to easily admit one bird and no more. Grain 
was scattered in confusion about the coup, more so 
in the opening, and extending through the tunnel. 
The leader of the flock passed along the wide, gentle 
slope, feeding as he went, the rest eagerly following. 
Some grains were scattered upon the ground within in 
order to hinder apprehension from arising until all 
were inside. In this condition it never occurred to 
them to attempt egress from the same route by which 
they had entered. The tunnel's opening inside being 
abrupt and darkened, the captive vainly strove to pass 
through the spaces in the side and roof of the coup. 

HUNTING WITH HOUNDS AND GUN. 

The hunting of squirrels and rabbits, doubtless, was 
about the same in all other regions where the animals 

230 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

abound. It was pursued by half-grown lads, regarded 
not yet old enough to overcome the awkward diffi- 
culties in chasing, such as only could be taken in the 
night ; or, as in the case of a fox, at early dawn and 
on horseback. Many a vain petition to venture, at 
least upon the former, was presented to mothers, and 
many a boy was made happy by the coming of the 
time when it was deemed not too imprudent to grant it. 

RACCOON HUNTING. 

Seldom was a young boy allowed to go upon a hunt 
of the raccoon. It is a beast of considerable fleetness, 
extremely wily, and combative to the last degree. 
Probably of all animals, if not the most cunning in 
devices to evade its pursuers, it is the most adroit and 
pertinacious in flight. Not one hound in a hundred 
could cope with a "coon," in single combat on land, 
and it required three or four to do so in water. A 
coon hunt of several dogs (and it required a pack) 
gave chase, often a mile or more, before the quarry 
was compelled to a tree, and this, back and forth, 
winding right and left through the densest thickets 
that the fugitive knows best, on the margin of the 
creek. The tearing and soiling of clothes, inevita- 
ble to close following of hounds, made parents put 
a ban upon sons until they were well on toward man- 
hood. Even grown persons, on account of the ex- 
pense, seldom hunted them, except for the purpose of 
lessening their ravages upon the young corn ears, in 

231 



Old School Days. 

adjoining fields, and never with intent to eat them. 
Occasionally a negro, for lack of opossum, would cook 
and eat them. 

HUNTING THE OPOSSUM. 

A sport which boys greatly delighted in was accom- 
panying the negroes while hunting the opossum. Its 
relish was the dearer because of the infrequency with 
which parents, especially mothers, consented to it. Of 
all delights to the palate of the Southern negro, 
and indeed of many a Southern white man, the flesh 
of the opossum, when baked to the proper degree of 
brown, is the dearest. Southerners regard it of all 
meats the least indigestible, and but for its super- 
abundant fat it would appear more frequently on the 
tables of whites. In some houses this superfluity was 
disposed of by placing a layer or more of oak or 
hickory sticks to the height of three or four inches at 
the bottom of the oven, and upon the lattice work 
thus made lay the opossum. By such mode much of 
the oil was deposited on the bottom. The negro, when 
cooking for himself, never resorts to these measures, 
but takes his favorite as he is, indeed, preferring him 
with all of his imperfections upon his head. 

At every home, whatever might be lacking for mak- 
ing up the full of home comforts, it was never an 
opossum dog; seldom was it without two or three. 
They belonged to the negroes, and were usually well 
trained. The hunter providing himself with an ax, 

232 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

a torch of Hghtwood sticks of suitable length (about 
two feet) accompanied by at least one other, bearing 
another ax and an armful of other sticks, sallied forth 
to the woods. Both he and his dog well knew the 
most frequented haunts of the quarry, along skirts 
of wood and meadow where grew the persimmon, the 
muscadine and the wild grape. After the trail was 
found the pursuit was usually brief, as this beast is 
not swift of foot, and travels over an inconsiderable 
space. The dogs bark little or none while pursuing, 
and so the opossum, when about to be overtaken by 
surprise, makes with what speed is possible to a tree. In 
his emergency he has to sometimes take to a small 
sapling, up which he can mount no higher than six 
or eight feet without bending the top. If he is not 
too hotly pressed he will take to a larger one, although 
he is not as particular in that matter as the raccoon, 
who, being more swift of foot and more capable in 
general of taking care of himself, invariably seeks 
the largest he can find in his flight. 

The "treeing" was announced by a bark peculiar 
to that office, and entirely different from others. 
There was no sound of eagerness, as in those in pur- 
suit. It was one brief utterance of mere announce- 
ment, as if the dog had finished the task assigned to 
him and would now lie down and rest until his owners 
came up. If his bark was hearkened to he gave no 
more. If not, he repeated it at intervals until it was. 
Then he sat or lay while the tree was being felled. 
Just before this crisis, unless the tree was small, one 
233 



Old School Days. 

of the axmen, quitting his work, rep^^ired a short 
distance on the side opposite to that in which 
the tree was to fall, and held him by the collar during 
the descent. This was done to secure him from being 
crushed by rushing too speedily among the branches. 
Instant upon the fall he was loosed, and, rushing for- 
ward, seized his game nearly always before it could 
get to another tree. At that instant all excitement 
ended. A moment before the seizure, if he had it to 
spare, the opossum, offering no resistance, laid itself 
down and to all appearances died. This was regarded 
as an instinctive artifice to attempt escape from death 
by seeming to be dead already. It will fight neither 
man nor dog, and at last seems to implore for pity 
and sparing of life to one so entirely submissive. 
This gave rise to the phrase "playing 'possum," ap- 
plied to persons suspected of making insincere ado 
about their own ailments or other suffering, or pre- 
tending to be asleep. 

The way in which the captive was secured, if not 
novel, was curious, and singularly hard. A hickory 
stick of, say two inches thickness, and five or six feet 
in length, was split at a small distance from one end 
and before the wedge was withdrawn the long, hair- 
less, thick-skinned tail was drawn about half its length 
through the slit, after which the wedge was with- 
drawn. The captor slung his stick across his shoul- 
ders, trimmed his torch, and, if not ready to return 
home, hied his dog to another search. Occasionally 
a negro would return home not too late for rest enough 

234 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

for the morrow's work, with three or four hanging to 
his pole. 

The kilHng was usually postponed to a Sunday 
During the interval it was kept in a box set with its 
open side upon the ground and made firm by heavy 
stones laid upon the top, ventilated by auger holes. 
It was fed upon persimmons mainly, but with additions 
of bread, collards, potatoes and other vegetables gotten 
from the negro's small garden that lay behind his 
cabin. It was really surprising what degrees of fat- 
ness it would take on in a very short time. 

The killing was usually postponed to a Sunday. 
In all probability never since Georgia was first occupied 
by white people with slaves did an opossum, when 
killed by a negro, meet death in any other. For 
this time-honored custom he felt respect that would 
have been sorely hurt even by suggestion of sub- 
stitution of another. 

And so on a fair Sunday morning, taking him ten- 
derly, yet with sufficient firmness of grasp by the tail, 
he drew him from his box into the light of day, let 
him "go dead" for awhile, after his harmlessly decep- 
tive way, and, it may be, addressed to him some words 
of praise for the manner in which he had made him- 
self ready for the winding up of this, his last job. 
Then laying down his ax with the helve across the 
victim's neck, and placing his foot upon it near the 
space of contact, while he kept it pressed, with his 
two hands he pulled his tail until his neck was broken. 
Already a pot of water hard by had been made hot for 
235 



Old School Days. 

scalding the hair from his "carcass," by this time be- 
come, as some expressed it, "as round as a butter 
ball." After he was baked and set upon a tray, flanked 
satisfactorily with attendant good things, it was inter- 
esting to see the rapidity with which, using a favorite 
simile among the negroes, it would "go down the red 
lane." 

PLANTATION FOURTH OF JULY. 

Among the yearly holidays anticipated most eagerly 
by children was the plantation Fourth of July. 

Independence Day, as many used to style it, always 
had its several commemorations. The principal one 
was held on the day itself in the villages, or, in districts 
too remote from those, in the meeting-house grove or 
near a cross roads store. In the latter case, an orator 
and a reader came from town, all surviving Revolution- 
ary soldiers were carried and sat in chairs in front of 
the audience, and with women divided the eloquent 
praises of the peroration. Afterwards came the bar- 
becue, for whose enjoyment juicy exhalations from 
pits wherein the "carcasses" were nearing a proper fin- 
ish for some time before made all mouths ready. 

The other came on later, usually on the third or 
fourth Sunday of the month. This was the negroes' 
"Fourth of July." By this time the small grain had 
been harvested, cotton and corn received their third 
and last plowing, and the crop was pronounced to be 
"laid by" during the four weeks before the ripening. 

236 



Old Field Schools of Georgia. 

On these occasions things were put on early and 
kept on late. Pigs and lambs, according to the num- 
ber in the family, were barbecued, supplemented by 
fowls and vegetables, cakes, conserves and other good 
tilings. Yet the scene most interesting to children 
was the cider beating. Apples brought in carts from 
the orchard were emptied into a long trough made 
of a poplar log, where they were beaten by men with 
pestles. A rude press was built and fastened to one 
of the trees in the grove, and on a layer of oat straw 
the pulp gathered in buckets was emptied, the long 
beam, attached to the screw that pressed, being drawn 
around by a horse or mule. The fun to children was 
being allowed with long oat straws to suck the new 
cider from the trough. The dinner table was set in 
the grove. After the whites were served the negroes 
sat down on their chairs and behches, when all, men, 
women and children, did the best they knew how with 
the viands set before them. When all could do no 
more on that line, the old foreman, called upon for a 
speech and unanimously denied being excused, said 
his say, and was followed by others among the men, 
who talked their talks, and by the half-grown boys 
and girls, who sang their songs. After, the aged and 
other adults sat around under the trees and looked 
on as the young, white and black, disported in the 
grove. Except Christmas and Christmas week, this 
was the whitest of all days in the year. It mattered 
not what had been the favorableness of the seasons 
and the general prospect of the crops, on this day, 

237 



Old School Days. 

conditions, whether promising or otherwise, were put 
out of mind. Everybody was conscious that he had 
done his part faithfully, and knew that the same was 
felt by everybody else, so all gave themselves to en- 
joyment, willing to leave the future to the disposal 
of the Creator. With apparent reluctance the sim 
went down at last too soon. Yet often the moon at 
or not far from its full, or the heavens lit by «'tarlight, 
allowed the children to continue their sports till near 
the hour of nine, at which all must retire to their beds. 



THE END. 



238 



INDEX. 



Air Castles, 18, 75. 
Aladdin's Cave, 18. 
All-Fool's Day, 106. 
All-Hallows Eve, 111. 
Alphabet, 24. 
Amateur Acting, 80-81. 
Ancestral Pride, 123. 
"Angel of the House," 35. 
"Annie Laurie," etc., 40. 
Anniversaries, 102. 
Anti-Everythingarians, 35, 

37, 117. 
Arts and Crafts of Boys, 86. 
Autograph Albums, 93. 
Awkwardness, 127. 

Babyhood, 23. 
Ballads of Childhood, 40. 
Ball and Kite, 39. 
Bashfulness, 129. 
Beadle's Dime Novels, 81. 
Berrying, 29, 86. 
Birthdays, 34. 
"Black-Beard," 82. 
Black Mammy, 94, 153. 
"Blind Man's Buff," 216. 
Bogies and Scarecrows, 57. 
Bonnyeastle's Views, 31. 
Boobies, 121. 
Books for Boys, 137. 
Boyish Patriotism, 41. 
Boys' Games — 50 Years Ago, 

201. 
Brownies, 76. 
Bugbears, 61. 
Bull Pen— An Old Sport, 

216. 



Bunyan's Pilgrim Progress, 

77, 141. 
Busy Idleness, 85. 
Buttermilk, 96. 

Camp Meetings, 97. 
Candy Pullings, 113. 
Caning (See Flagellation). 
Catapults, 89. 
"Cat," Game of, 217. 
Chaucer's Fairy Tales, 55. 
"Chicaney - Chicaney - Craney 

Crow," 217. 
"Children of the Abbey," 137. 
"Chip from the Old Block," 

122. 
Chivalry— Old and New, 162. 
Christmas, 112. 
Cider, 100. 
Cigarettes, 118. 
Circus, 68, 78. 
"Cissy Boys," 45, 120. 
Civil War Times, 118. 
Classes, Admixture of, 201. 
College Life, 134. 
Colonial Dames, 124. 
Commencements, 109. 
Compensations of Nature, 

167. 
Compositions — School, 222. 
Corn Bread, 94, 96. 
Corn Shuckings, 95. 
Corporal Punishment ( See 

Flagellation). 
Cowards and Sneaks, 122. 
Cracklings and Chitterlings, 

98. 



239 



Index. 



Crinoline and Chignon, 157. 
Cruelty to Birds, 88. 
"Cry Babies," 120. 

Dancing Master, 125. 
Dark Room — Punishment, 61. 
Darwin and Lamarck, 38. 
Day Dreams and Air Castles, 

75. 
December, 100. 

Declamations — Selections, 39. 
Demi-Gods and Hero-Wor- 

ship, 78. 
Dialogues — School, 205. 
Diaries, 92. 
Dime Novels, 81. 
"Dixie" — National Air, 39. 
Doctors — Boy's Aversion, 63, 

156. 
Dog Days, 110. 
Don Quixote, 18, 140. 
Dream Books, 57. 
Dress— Old Time, 122. 
Duelling— Old Times, 197. 
Dunces and Dullards, 163. 
Durham, Billy, at Vicksburg, 

42. 

Early Rising — Dislike of, 85. 

Easter Observances, 108. 

Eating — Boys' Glory, 36. 

Educational Conditions, Early. 
203. 

Elves, Fairies and Pixies, 54. 

Entertaining a I5oy, 35, 30. 

Envy — Evils of, 122. 

Epochs in Child Life, 102. 

Evil Eye — Boy's Terror, 57. 

Exaggeration — Characteris- 
tic, 02. 

Exhibitions— School, 109, 222. 

Fairies, Fables and Fiddles, 

.55. 
Father to the Man, 34. 



Fear and Firmness, 61. 
Festivals and Fetiches, 131. 
Fido and the Toad, 92. 
Fire Crackers, 28, 109. 
Fishing, 29. 

Flagellation, 31, 53, 132. 
Fleas, Flies and Frogs, 26, 

160. 
Football and Firecrackers, 

109. 
Fourth-of-July, 236. 
Friday — Superstition, 61. 
Frogs, 87. 
Fruit, Food and Fish. 

Games, 216. 

Gander-Pulling, 105. 

Georgia — Early Education of, 

201. 
"Getting by Heart," 207. 
"Getting Full," 196. 
Ghosts, Goblins and Giants, 

54, 58. 
Goethe, 25, 28. 
Going to the Dentist, 156. 
"Goobers" and Gardens, 46, 

155. 
Graveyards, Gorgons, etc., 58. 
Griefs of Boyhood, 54, 62. 
Grottoes of Fairies, 54. 
Ground Hog, 105. 
"Gulliver's Travels," 54. 
Gypsies, 93. 

Halloween, 111. 
Hangings, 99. . 

Ha'nts — Cats, etc., 57. 
"Hard-shell" liaptists, 98. ' 
Haunted Houses, 100. 
Heredity, 122. 
Hero-Worship. 7.5, 78. 
"Hide and Seek," 206. 
"Hide the Switch," 206. 
Hobson, Richmond P., 165. 
Hoecake and Hominy, 94. 



240 



Index. 



Hog Killing Time, 98. 
Holidays, 85, 102, 223. 
Holly and Mistletoe, ;)8-112. 
Home-made Clothes, 43. 
"Home, Sweet Home," 40,147. 
"Hop-Scotch," 207. 
"Horatius at the Bridge," 

39. 
"Hot Ball," 207. 
House Cleaning, 151. 
Hunting, 100, 230. 

Idyllic Hours, 18. 
Independence Day, 109. 

Insects — 88. 

Jack-the-Giant-Killer, 18. 

Jay-Bird — Superstition, 61. 

Jealousies, 12G. 

Jeflries, Richard, 22. 

Joan of Arc — Witchcraft, 54. 

Johnston — Col. Richard Mal- 
colm, 19, 201. 

"Josephus Orangeblossom," 
137. 

Kidd, Capt.— Pirate, 82. 

Kindergarten, 23. 

"Kit Carson" — Boy's Ideal, 

81. 
Kites and Tops, 68. 

Lanes in the Country, 147. 

"Lap-Jacket," 206. 

"Laying Out"— "Turn Outs," 

30. 
Leap Frog, 208. 
Lessons and Tasks, 24. 
Literary Taste— Child, 137. 
Lives of the Pirates, 82, 137. 
Lizards and Reptiles, 87. 
Log-Rolling, 95. 
London Church Times, 35. 
Love — Rehearsing Speech, 127. 
Lyrics of the Rebellion, 39. 



Mad Dogs — Fear of. 111. 
Marbles — Losing at, 68. 
"Marco Bozzaris," 39. 
Marmalade, 154. 
May-Day Festivals, 107. 
Measles — Epidemic in School, 

26. 
]\Temorial Day, 107. 
Memories of Boyhood, 28-30. 
Memorizing in School, 210. 
Mothers — Then and Now, 150. 
Mumps and Whooping Cough, 

26. 
Muscadines, 86. 

Negroes — Superstitions, etc., 

60, 68. 
"Nellie Gray"— Old Ballad, 

40. 
New Year's Day, 103. 
Night — Sounds in, 100. 
Noise — Boy's Ambition, 112, 
Nutting Season, 86. 
Nymphs, 54. 

Oberon and Titania, IS. 
Old Field Schools, 18, 201. 
Old Home, 147. 
"Old Sister Phoebe," 206. 
Omens, Ogres and Miracles, 

60. 
Opossum Hunting, 232. 
Optimism of Youth, 80, 110. 
Orgies of Voodoos, 189. 

Pan and His Satyrs, 158. 
Passing of Old Pedagogues, 

19, 226. 
Perseverance Fallacy, 114. 
Phrenology, 130. 
Picnics, 159. 

"Pilgrim's Progress," 141. 
Pills — Boy's Aversion, 156. 
Pins — In Chair and Bed, 45. 
Pirate Kings — Ideal, 82. 



241 



Index. 



"Poking Fun," 45. 
Politicians — Youthful, 38. 
'Possum and 'Taters, 96. 
Posterity's Debt, 197. 
Post-Ollice — Valentine Day, 

104. 
Pranks of Boyhood. 45. 
Preaching — Aversion to, 66. 
"Prisoner's Base," 208. 
Prompting, 204. 
Prospero's Wand, 18. 
Punishment — Unjust, 30. 
"Puppy-Love," 02. 
"Puss-in-the-Corner," 208. 

Quail, 29. 

"Queen of May," 107. 
Quilting— Old Times, 95. 
Quondam Lovers Meeting, 
170. 

Rabbit Foot — Superstition, 
61. 

Rabbit Hunting, 100. 

Raccoon Hunting, 231. 

Reading — First Steps, 137. 

Reasoning of Child, 27. 

Retrospection, 162. 

Revivals, 94. 

Revivals — Negro, 94. 

"Rhapsody of Life's Prog- 
ress," 76. 

"Robin Hood," 18. 

"Robinson Crusoe," 18, 139. 

Romeo and Juliet — How 
Made, 135. 

Rustic Children, 29. 

"Salad Days," 78. 
Santa Claus, 35. 
Satan — Terror of, 59. 
Scandal, Gossip, etc., 124. 
School Houses — Old Time, 
206. 



School Room — Discipline, 207- 
213. 

Sea-Rovers — Charm of, 82. 
Signs of Bad Luck, 61. 
Skeletons — Family, 124. 
Slang— Antc-Bellum, 30, 119. 
Sleeping Alone at Night, 61. 
Smoking— Early Started, 118. 
Snakes, Spiders, etc., 87. 
Songs of the War, 39. 
Spectres, Spooks and Spirits, 

59. 
Spinsters, 158. 
Spring Cleaning, 151. 
St. Patrick's Day, 106. 
St. Valentine's Day, 104. 
Stone Bruises, Stubbed Toes, 

etc., 68. 
Studying Aloud, 206. 
Sunday School, 65. 
Superstitions of Boyhood, 54. 

"Tag," 207. 

Temper, 24. 

Temperaments — Law of, 131. 

Terrors of Childhood, 57, 100. 

"Tom Tiddler's Land," 18. 

Tops, Toys, etc., 37, 44. 

Town and Country Schools, 

28. 
Tragedies of Youth, 47. 
Traps, 229. 
Treason Among Playmates, 

47. 
"Turn Outs," 225. 

"Uncle Toby and the Fly," 

159. 
"Uncle Tom"— Story of. 68. 
"Undiscovered Countries," 

105. 
Unruly Boys. 32. 
Utopia — More's, 164. 



Vacation Time, 84. 



242 



Index. 



Valentines, 104. 
"Valentine Vox," 141. 
"Vicar of Wakefield," 142. 
Visions, 54. 

Voodoo-Worship — Negro, 57, 
189. 

War Songs, 40. 
Webster's Spelling Book, 25. 
Wee-Folk Lore, etc., 54. 
West, Dick, at Perryville, 

42. 
Whipping (See Flagellation). 



Will and Temper of Child, 

23. 
"Willy Boys," 121. 
Winter Sports, 100. 
Witches and Wizards, 54. 
Woman's Influence, 169. 
Woman's Rights — Old Times, 

150. 

"Young Bloods," 196, i 

Youth and Love, 127. 
Yuletide, 54. 



243 



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Gardner, W. H. 
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Tolstoy, Count. 
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Present Day. A Text Book of Oratory. By 
Carlos Martyn. 

AMERICAN MEN OF THE TIME. 

Being a Dictionary of Biographical Records of 
Eminent Men of the Day. Revised to date and 
edited by Charles F. Rideal, Fellow of the Royal 
Society of Literature. 

AMERICAN WOMEN OF THE TIME. 

Being a Dictionary of Biographical Records of 
Eminent Living Women. Revised to date and 
edited by Charles F. Rideal, Fellow of the Royal 
Society of Literature. It is the first time a book 
of reference of this kind has been compiled in the 
interests of any women in any country. The ef- 
forts of the publishers will be directed towards 
the end of securing a standard work, founded on 
reliable data, and which will be a suitable addi- 
tion to any bookshelf. 

CHARLES DICKENS' HEROINES AND WOMEN 
FOLK. 

Some Thoughts Concerning Them. A Revised 
Lecture. By Charles F. Rideal, with drawings 
of "Dot" and "Edith Dombey," by Florence 
Pash. Third Edition. Cloth. Twenty-five Cents. 

"A- delightful little book." — Institute, 



CHARLES DICKENS READER AND RECITER, 
THE. 

For the Home, School and Platform. Compiled 
with an introduction by Charles F. Rideal, Fel- 
low of the Royal Society of Literature. For- 
merly member of the Council of the Lecturers' 
Institute of Great Britain. Author of " Weller 
isms," "Charles Dickens' Heroines and Women 
Folk," etc. 



CHURCH WORKER'S BOOK. 

One Thousand Plans. By as Many Successful 
Clergymen and Other Christian Workers. By 
Carlos Martyn. 



CONTINENTAL CAVALIER, A. 

By Kimball Scribner. Author of "The Honor 
of a Princess," (twenty-third thotisand), "The 
Love of the Princess Alice," (fifteenth thousand), 
and ' ' In the Land of the Loon. " The aixthor 
writes here in his well-known populaf style and 
contributes one more (and not the least) to the 
eagerly awaited historic novels of Revolutionary 
times. His characters are resurrections and in 
them the past lives again. Mr. Kimball Scribner 
is rapidly becoming one of the most popular of 
the younger writers of to-day. With four illus- 
trations on copper. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. 

CURIOUS CASE OF GENERAL DELANEY SMYTHE, 
THE. 

By W. H. Gardner, Lieutenant-Colonel U. S. A. 
( retired ) . Not in many years has a more interest- 
ing or mysterious story appeai'ed than this. Those 
who follow the fortunes of General Delaney 
Smythe will certainly corroborate this statement. 
The book will have a wide and permanent sale. 
With four illustrations by Miss Lowenstein. 
Cloth. One Dollar. 



CROSS OF HONOR, THE 

A Military Dramalette in On© Act. By Charles 
F. Rideal and C. Gordon Winter (Jean de Me- 
zailles). Very daintily printed and bound. One 
Dollar 

DANGER SIGNALS FOR NEW CENTURY MAN- 
HOOD. 

By Edward A. Tabor. Is a masterly discussion 
of the dangers that confront the individual as 
well as the society of to-day in the United States. 
It is also a beautiful portraiture of the young 
manhood which should exist in the 20th century. 
Including photograph and biographical sketch of 
the author. 13mo, cloth bound, 316 pages. One 
Dollar. 

DEVOUT BLUEBEARD, A. 

By Marie Graham. This is a keen, satirical story 
which hits off foibles and humbugs in religious 
administration ; not in an infidel spirit, but by a 
friendly hand and from the inside ; one is kept 
guessing who's who. Cloth 12mo. One Dollar. 

DRY TOAST. 

Some Thoughts upon Some Subjects not generally 
dealt with. By Charles F. Rideal. 
Contents: — A Piece of the Crust; Brains and 
Black Butter; On the Mending of the Bellows; 
On Backbone, or rather the Want of It; Some 
Phases of Modern Honesty ; On Giving Advice — 
and Taking It; Concerning "Hums*; On Flap- 
doodle — the Thick and the Thin ; On Cranks ; On 
Pouring Cold Water ; On the Art of Making One- 
self Uncomfortable; On Always Doing Some- 
thing; Some of the Advantages of Being Reh- 
gious; On Playing One's Cards; On Living it 
Dovph; On Friendship; On Fame, etc. Cloth. 
One Dollar. 



DIRECTORY OF MEDICAL WOMEN, THE. 

Being a List of those Ladies who have Qualified 
in Medicine and Surgery, and who are Officially 
Registered as such, with Statistical and General 
Information of Universities, Colleges, Hosjjitals, 
etc. 

FROM CLOUDS TO SUNSHINE ; 

or, The Evolution of a Soul, by E. Thomas Kaven. 
Author of " A Duel of Wits," etc. Cloth, 12mo, 
200 pages. One Dollar. 

GEMS OF JEWISH ORATORY. 

A selection from the finest specimens of Jewish 
oratory; together with an introduction. By 
Madison C. Peters. Author of "Justice to the 
Jew," etc. 

GEMS OF JEWISH PROSE. 

A selection from the finest authors of Jewish 
prose ; together with an introduction. By Madi- 
son C. Peters. Author of "Justice to the Jew." 

GEMS OF JEWISH YERSE. 

A selection from the finest authors of Jewish 
poetry; together with an introduction. By Madi- 
son C. Peters. Author of " Justice to the Jew," 
etc. 

GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD, THE. 

By Henry Drvunmond. 

HAUNTS OF KIPLING. 

Fully illustrated. A complete history and de- 
scription of all the localities described by Rud- 
yard Kipling in his works. By Margherita 
Arlina Hamm and Charles F. RideaL 

HOUSE OF A TRAITOR, THE. 

By Prosper Merimee. 

7 




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